Absolution
by Ginny R.B
Summary: What is it that draws James to Severus? A disease? A curse? A secret wish... a need? Try as he might to ignore the Slytherin, in the end, to Severus is where James always finds himself. JamesxSeverus
1. Creatures of Habit

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, places, spells, and such are the creative belongings to JK Rowling.

Warnings: This story is a slash fic between James and Severus, meaning that it is male-on-male love. It's rated M for later chapters in which certain scenes may be-- or may not be-- graphic. James can be seen as the dark, little shit sometimes, and Snape is-- Well, hopefully just Snape. I have twisted JK's canon to suit my sad need to have an angst/ romance story, so if all that isn't your cup of tea, please don't read.

To those of you who will read, I welcome all opinions, comments, reviews, and ect…

Now onward!

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**Prologue: Creatures of Habit**

It doesn't take much to make him balk. A flick of my wand, a choice curse, and then he knows. That is how it has been, how it will always be.

But sometimes, he forgets, and I have to remind him once more.

I caught him looking at her again. My Lily. His black eyes were on her again, staring, dark, and… gleaming. I feel something grow taught in me because he has no right. How dare he?

Lily is mine. Her red hair, her sparkling green eyes, her tight mouth when she's disapproving of me… again-- They're all mine.

And he can't look at her.

I stalk up behind him-- I leave Sirius, so he can entertain the masses for a bit-- coming around the tree he's been sitting at. The tree he always sits at so he can have a perfect view of my Lily. And he thinks I don't know.

I'm getting angrier with every step I take. He's so transfixed by her that he doesn't sense me. Normally his paranoia would have sent him whirling on me already, wand in hand, an evil, dark art curse already formulated in his conniving brain for such occasions. They do happen quite often…

But he doesn't notice me.

A twig snaps under my headless, vengeful feet, but still he is relaxed, unaware of my pursuit of him.

How dare he?!

I glance up to where I know my love is. I see her red hair billowing behind her like an almost translucent ribbon caught by the wind. How I love her. She smiles, and I swear from even where I'm standing, I can see light sparkling off her cheeks.

And he's noticing, too.

Something in me wants to spit on him here, but that would be unworthy of the Gryffindor I am. So would be attacking him from behind. I'll give him a fair chance.

"Bewitched are we, Snivellus?" I'm surprised I managed to sound as cool as that, despite the anger flaming inside me. I'm so sick of him watching her!

His back doesn't even tense before he's spun around, wand flexed out towards me. However, I'm too quick for him. I've always been too quick for him.

"Expelliarmus," I say easily, the spell reflexive to me. His wand goes soaring behind him, lost to the trees. It's a shame it didn't land in the lake right next to us. I know I would have relished to see the lake squid snap it in two. Ah well…

His dark eyes that had been so hazy when watching my Lily are now narrowed, pointed, and blacker than usual. I smirk. His eyes slit even further, and I know his mind is working out how to disarm me. He knows what my purpose right then and there is. But really, he should know better by now.

I look off past him to show that even with my attention averted, he doesn't worry me in the least. My wand is aimed right at his throat, so he doesn't budge. Instead, he looks out of the corner of his eye to see what I'm looking at. His eyes widen only slightly, almost imperceptibly.

I'm watching Lily giggling with one of friends. She's so wonderful that she doesn't even understand how much more glorious she is compared to all the other girls. And she's mine.

I look back at Snivellus, hard. My jaw is tight, I can feel that, and I only hope it adds to my seriousness. He looks at me, and I know he knows that I know what he was doing.

Yes, and the look in his eyes almost makes me smile.

"You really shouldn't, you know," I say casually. "It'll do you no good." It's like I'm being concerning, warning this little dark Slytherin against his lacking judgment. But I'm not. I'm warning him to stay away, to not taint what's mine with his darkness that fouls up everything--

"I'm astounded you've managed to even feign worry for another," he says coolly as he observes me with his obsidian eyes. I hate that. I hate how he doesn't yet understand the situation he's in, though he should. "Then again," he eyes shift to look beside him, "that's really not unlike you." I feel myself simmering with rage, but I remain calm.

"Come now, Snivellus. Think you know me?" I flick my wand blithely, and I notice him tense at it. He's not looking at me. He's too anxious about my wand, so I let myself smile.

"I can understand your aspirations, Potter," he says evenly. "But it must be difficult for you--" His tone is so mocking-- "to cover up all that scheming." For a moment, I blank. I don't understand what he's implying. But then I do and focus on that he just called me a…

"Petrificus Totalus," I spell. His body locks together, legs snap close, arms pulled to his sides, and he freezes. Good. I want him to shut it. He needs to shut it. He needs to know his place. I inch just a little close, dropping my voice as I speak. "Now, now Snivelly… I know you weren't just insulting me by calling me a Slytherin, were you?" My wand is so close to that pallid throat of his, and I imagine his neck quivering in fear from the proximity to it. I wait patiently for him to speak, knowing he can't. I feel myself grinning. "I didn't think so. If so, no doubt I would have lost my breakfast." I laugh heartily, and I see his beetle-black eyes tapering into mere slits.

"Leave her alone, Snivellus," I say darkly. His eyes are blank, and the anger rises in me just a hair. "Quit tailing her like the disgusting shadow you are." It's very much a command. I let the threats remain unsaid, but I know he can hear them underlying my words. I smile. It's unassuming, disarming… the smile I use with all the oblivious teachers. It works wonders.

He merely looks at me, and I tell myself that's all he can do, though. I press my wand just under the junction of his jaw and neck just barely, still smiling. Then I hear my Lily's laughter carried over to me like a well needed breath. I turn and leave Snivellus there.

The curse will wear off… in a couple of hours. Best to let him think about what he's done.

The heat is low with the setting sun as I walk. I run a hand through my hair and fix my glasses.

"Hello, Evans," I say. Lily turns and smiles at me, and I forget all about the shadow locked under the day. Such is the routine.


	2. Revenge, So Much Sweeter Once Embittered

A/N: I really like this fic… I enjoy writing to it. I know James is a tad… OOC. Forgive me. I need him to be, though. Although, in my skewed mind, I can see him acting this way. Increase his spitefulness by just a degree, and I think James could reach this level of malice. Maybe he'll be sorted out in the end… *shrugs*

Anywho! Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter One: Revenge, So Much Sweeter Once Embittered**

"Come on James! I'm so boooored!" James looked up from the book he was reading and cast his friend a sympathetic look. Sometimes Sirius was a handful.

"Sorry mate," he smiled as he pointed to the book. "Have to read this first."

"Why?" Sirius asked. James frowned and turned back to the book.

"Because I'm curious about something," James said simply, running a hand tiredly through his hair.

"What about?" his friend persisted, sitting up more. James shook his head, both from humor and exasperation.

"Can't you go find Moony and bother him for a bit?" He watched as Sirius pouted, his shoulder length, black hair a little mussed from laying.

"Certainly. You know how much he loves to be bothered when he's studying," Sirius replied sarcastically.

"What do you think I'm doing?" James asked.

"But this isn't for school, Prongs," Sirius supplied knowingly, waving a hand towards James' book.

"Well, go find Peter then," James sighed, trying in vain to read in his book. Sirius was about to say something, James saw, but he shut his mouth the next second. Sirius got up abruptly from the chair he'd been lounging in and made his way to the portrait hole. James could have sworn he heard, as Sirius was climbing through the hole, "--little prat," but he didn't know if it was directed at him or not.

Again, James ran a hand through his tangled black mane that stuck up every which way. Sirius was getting restless these days, and James wondered what it was that was bothering him so much. However, he never asked. Sirius should know that whatever it was, he could tell James; James wasn't going to force it out of him.

He reclined back in his chair, the front two legs lifting off the ground--he used a levitating charm to keep his chair steady-- folded his arms behind his head, and looked about the abandoned Gryffindor common room. Tapestries, woven stories of the heroic deeds of James' Gryffindor predecessors, adorned the faded, red walls like a wallpapered book. There was a fire blazing orange in it's hearth, and worn, high-back chairs circled it invitingly. James was sitting in the back on the room, off in a corner as it was one of his favorite spots.

A place where he had a perfect view of everyone else.

Lily often chose the chair closest to the hearth-- if she could get it-- and it always left James an ideal view of her concentrated (and unaware) profile as she lost herself to books and homework.

James let out another one of his increasing sighs.

But she wasn't there then and neither was anyone else, so James shook his head, dropped the front two legs of his seat back down on the ground with a _clunk_, and turned to his book.

He read and read and read, and after awhile, the words became nothing more than blurred lines of ink. He blinked his eyes and they watered. He removed his glasses and rubbed at the very corners of them in slow, circular motions. Finally, he closed the book forcefully and shoved it away from him. He propped his elbows on the table, entwined his fingers before his face, and rested his forehead against his knuckles.

And again he sighed.

What had all that meant? He had been curious, after what Dumbledore had said-- or let slip-- but it was so difficult to find what it all had meant. This book had proven to be just as vague and elusive as all the other useless tomes he had pursued.

He dropped his arms before him upon the table, fingers still interlaced, and rested his head, instead, against the cool form of the wooden desk.

It shouldn't be such a big deal to him. He was curious; that was all, and it wasn't as if this was the most important thing he should be concentrating on. There was Lily to think about-- and how he liked thinking of that-- and there was also the O.W.L.S to get ready for-- but James wasn't particularly worried about them; pranks to invent-- at least for bored Sirius' sake; quidditch practices-- the Slytherins could not be allowed any triumphs this year, James vowed; and so many other things.

What was one unfulfilled curiosity anyway?

He turned his head so that his ear and cheek were laying on the table and stared at one of the windows across the room. All he could see was the sky burning pink, yellow, and orange. It would be supper time soon, but James wasn't particularly hungry. He didn't know if it was because of his unsuccessful, academic conquest or because he hadn't been riding all that day yet.

Decidedly, he lifted himself up and strode to the fifth year boys' dormitories. He entered the room, four empty and made beds occupied the circular room, and he strode to his own bed. He grabbed his infamous cloak that looked like a spilled, viscous, shimmering liquid. It was a beloved tool of his and one that always guaranteed a sudden getaway when pranks went awry. With the cloak in hand, he set off to the Quidditch field. He needed the cloak just in case he stayed out too late.

He walked the corridors, and many people called out his name and waved to him as he passed. He returned the greetings, wave, smile, and all, and messed up his hair as he passed by a particular group of girls-- many of whom were Lily's friends.

As he passed outside Hogwarts entrance, he also passed by a gang of seventh year Slytherins-- James recognized the cool features of Lucius Malfoy, one of the most arrogant of Slytherins, and who was, no doubt, leading that mindless group of snakes. They glared at James like he was an infectious disease, and he smiled and waved enthusiastically in turn, like they were some of his best mates. They visibly bristled at that, turned on they're uppity, little heels, and pranced away like the little gits they were.

Merlin, he hated those bastards.

The grass made soft, rustling sounds as he walked, and soon he reached the wide, green expanses of the playing field. After retrieving his broom with a well used _Accio_ charm, he swung his leg over his wooded steed and breathed in richly, letting the somewhat arid, summer air fill his lungs. Then he kicked off and tore upwards.

He rose and rose until he was well above the treetops surrounding the field-- until he could see Hagrid's hut perfectly on the other side of Hogwarts' grounds-- until he even thought he could see the little town of Hogsmeade way on the other side of the black lake. Once he thought he was high enough, James paused, and watched as a sea of clouds slowly drifted by beneath him.

Then he leaned forward, nose almost touching his broom, and shredded through those clouds. Winds whipped at his face and ripped through his hair, and it both stung and soothed him. Yes, this always cheered him up.

He shot upwards and then dived downwards. He looped in circles, tried to flip off his broom but missed and had to _accio_ his broom towards himself before he fell (and was wholly thankful no one was around to see his blunder); and finally landed on the ground when the sky became an inky, dark blue. He stowed away his precious broom before he set off for dinner.

He felt better already.

* * *

"Did you do something to Evans again?"

James looked up from the potatoes he'd been cramming in his mouth, and looked down the table. He caught Lily's green-- and for some reason, glaring-- eyes, and gulped the lumpy food down painfully. He looked to Sirius.

"No-- why? Why is she looking so miffed?" James asked. "Maybe _you_ did something," he accused.

"Please, James," came Remus' calm voice, his expression tired as he brushed his light brown fringe from his eyes. "No one can make her as mad as you, and judging by that venomous look--" he glanced towards Lily, "--you've done something." James snorted and ruffled his hair unknowingly.

He was about to stake his claim on innocence when something abruptly came to the foreground of his mind. A promise he'd made… A promised he'd made last week… A promise he'd help Lily with the essay set by Professor Corbarden, their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and which was due… tomorrow…

_Shit! _

And then Sirius was laughing, the bark-like sound of it filling the hall. The prat.

"Shut it, Sirius," James growled, dropping his head out of Evans-glare range, his face close to his plate.

"When you're right, you're right, mate!" Sirius laughed, ignoring his guilty friend.

"She'll get over it-- whatever you've done. She always does," Remus said, biting into small cut of steak. Good ol' Moony.

"Did I ever mention I liked you best?" James said to Remus over his corn and potatoes. A pea was flicked at his face, the green bit hitting him in the corner of his eye. James went to glare at Sirius who was innocently cutting into some chicken.

"What did you do?" came the squeaky voice of Peter, a small, round boy with mousy hair and mousy features. James smiled deviously.

"Oh, you know how it is…" James said elusively, and Peter nodded his head like he knew what James was talking about. Sirius quirked one eloquent eyebrow.

"Leaving something unfulfilled, Jamesie?" Sirius asked, just as vaguely. James waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Sirius laughed. Remus rolled his eyes, and brought a book out from Merlin knows where, while Peter looked from James to Sirius.

"In all honesty," Sirius said, a bit breathless, "what are you going to do to rectify this little botch of yours?" James felt confident to sit back up, assured that Lily was no longer trying to glare daggers at him.

"It's as Remy says," James began.

"I hate that name, James," Remus quipped from behind his book.

"She'll come around," James finished, ignoring his friend.

So dinner past by with no more death threats for James, and it ended with another one of Dumbledore's short, sweet, and barking mad speeches. As the plates were spelled clean, James and the rest of his Marauder friends made their way, behind the chattering crowd of students to the Gryffindor tower. James kept his unwavering focus on the bobbing, red head of Lily several feet away, thinking he could make it up to her that evening, while Sirius prattled on about Professor Slughorn's latest get-together.

James was nodding his head instinctively at the parts he should-- years around Sirius had honed this skill-- when he saw someone brush their arm not so casually against Lily's, the arm belonging to a familiar (and hated) Slytherin.

The slimy bastard!

James felt a growl collect in his throat, but he held it back as his hand reached for his wand tucked away in his robes. Sirius, being as intuitive as James was, also made for his wand; however, James stayed his own and Sirius' hand. There were too many people around.

James snarled as Lily turned to Snape, a fifth year Slytherin whose greasy hair framed a sullen, hallow face and one big nose, and she smiled! Snivellus upturned his nose, like he was too good to apologize, but mumbled something nonetheless. Lily inclined her head, and that's where the Gryffindors and Slytherins parted their ways-- as well as Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Remus was oblivious to what had just happened and followed the Gryffindors, and though Peter noticed that Sirius and James had stopped, Sirius had shaken his head at him. So Peter turned and followed Remus, his head slightly bowed.

James felt torn for a brief moment as he came to the crossroad where the groups separated. A part of him would like nothing more than to go after Snape and hex him into oblivion while another part wanted to run off to Lily and apologize for earlier and also comfort her from her traumatizing encounter with that slimy snake. Sirius waited patiently by his side as James deliberated between the two options.

Finally, he concealed his wand back into his robes and wordlessly made his way to the Gryffindor tower. It took Sirius a moment to realize they weren't going to follow Snape, but soon James heard his friend padding to catching up to him.

"I know that look," Sirius said simply, stashing away his own wand. James smiled and knew it wasn't pleasant.

Neither of those options were as good as the third one.

"Best go win my fairest lady's heart… again," James said, heading for the Gryffindor tower.

"Again?" Sirius repeated incredulously. "When did you ever win it to begin with?"

* * *

The only good thing about Professor Binns' class was being able to sleep.

James had gone to bed last night, heated and indignant, and hadn't slept too well because of it. He didn't think Lily would have reacted _so_ angrily after he had apologized. He had tried to tell her that it was only because his dear mate, Remus, had been cornered by the brutish Slytherins that he had missed their study date, and it had been up to James, the brave Gryffindor that he was, to try and save Remus.

It would have worked if Sirius hadn't piped up and told Lily that Remus had been studying with him in the library all afternoon.

Stupid Padfoot.

Lily had really gotten angry after that. She had even gone so far as to try and jinx James by having the title LIAR flash in red and gold across his forehead. It had taken James (with the enforced help of Sirius) nearly two hours to remove it. Even now, if someone looked hard enough, they could still probably see the thin outline of the word.

James grumbled into his folded arms while Professor Binns droned on and on about some treaty the wizards and muggles had made years and years ago. Like James could care. He peeked over his arm and looked about the room. Remus was bent over parchment, writing furiously-- he was one of the tiny few who took Binns seriously-- while Peter was doodling all over his papers.

Sirius was trying to make some pass at a Ravenclaw girl by charming her quill to write the words '_Fancy a snog later?' _all across her notes. She didn't look too eager on the uptake, but James had to hand it to Sirius. The boy never had let an opportunity pass him by.

Lily, who was several seats ahead of him and diagonal from his desk, was the only other one besides Remus (and a couple Ravenclaws) who was bothering with notes. Her red hair was draped over her thin shoulders as her hand moved fluidly across the parchment. From time to time, she would flip her hair back over onto her back, and James really wished he could just touch it.

James burrowed his face into his sleeves, though, and let out another grumble. He was still peeved with Lily, no matter how pretty she looked. He fell asleep moments later, thinking how he was going to make it up to her. He could trust his mates to wake him up.

Besides, he didn't want to be all groggy for his next class: Potions.

_No, _James smirked before his daydreams took him, _Don't want to fall asleep next class._

* * *

James walked into Potions class and took his usual seat, Sirius taking his next to James, while Remus and Peter sat behind them. Lily sat in the front row and all the way across the room from James. Normally she sat in front of him, that was how James had planned the seating, but not today. It seemed she'd rather be surrounded by the Slytherins.

That was fine with James.

He'd give her the front row of the show.

Seconds later, the Slytherins filed in. Rosier, a boy with dark, muddy red hair and one of the dumbest brutes James had ever had the misfortune of seeing, stalked in, and just behind him, the very spidery, Slytherin boy James had been waiting for. James smirked as he watched the skittish Snivellus slide into a seat, a row just in front of Lily. James concealed his vengeful mirth at the perfect vantage point he had now.

Sirius caught James' expression, and looked over at the Slytherins. It didn't take but a second later for Sirius' expression to match James'.

"Wonder what kind of things Snivelly writes in his potions book," James said offhandedly. Snivellus was always writing things down into the book. Sirius' smirk widened.

"It's probably his little diary," Sirius said.

"Is that so?" James uttered. He got up from his seat and strode over to where Lily was. Sirius followed.

"Evans," James announced, stepping up in front of her desk, Sirius slightly behind him and to his left. She didn't so much as look at him but dropped her books onto her desk with a loud thud. "Oh no, Evans, don't be angry with me. You know I can't handle it," James said, making his voice intentionally louder than it should be.

She glared at him.

"If you think that I even remotely care, you are sadly mistaken, Potter," she said evenly, her green eyes sharp, her usually round lips pulled into a thin line. James had to focus.

"Must we use such formalities?" he asked, leaning on her desk and completely ignoring her retort. He saw out of the corner of his eye, Sirius reaching down towards the floor. "It makes our relationship a mockery, Lily," he said.

"You're the only mockery around here, James," Lily responded with pseudo sweetness, looking pointedly at his forehead, and James resisted the urge to cover it. There came a chorus of 'Oooooh' broken in with laughter from his housemates. This kind of interaction between him and Lily was nothing new to his fellow Gryffindors, and James knew they rather enjoyed Lily rejecting him time and time again.

But this time was different. James knew what he was doing.

"You know… I might be able to straighten my act if only someone were to show me the error of my ways," he said, picking up one of her books and flipping it this way and that as if examining it. "Are you up to it?" he asked suddenly. He felt the whole room silence. He even had the complete, absorbed attention of the one person this little show was for.

James smiled because he couldn't help himself.

Lily blinked several times; James watched as her long lashes went up and down.

"Are you insulting me, Potter?" she asked, tone flat, taking the book from his hand. James shook his head. He really needed to hurry up before Old Slughorn arrived.

"Dearest Lily, surely such a thing is not even possible?" he asked innocently, folding his arms behind his back. As Lily opened her mouth to respond, he felt something pushed into his open hand.

A spine.

A spine of a book.

Just then there came a loud noise, like a crashing of chairs, a grunt, and then there was a lot of shouting.

"Watch where you're going, Black," snarled one boy. James turned to look, along with everyone else. Snivellus was on the floor, his chair toppled over him and his black, greasy looking hair brushed all into his face. Sirius was standing up looking as if he hadn't done anything wrong in his entire life, but James knew better.

"Sorry there, Snivelly. Didn't seem to notice you there," Sirius droned. "At all, actually," he added, earning several laughs from the others. James watched as Snivellus' upper lip rose into a snarl, his black eyes glaring maliciously.

As much as James would have been amused to watch this particular bit of Snape-bating, he had things to do. While everyone was completely fixated on the scene of Sirius and Snivelly, James shuffled to a corner of the room, oblivious by all. He looked at the Potions book that Sirius had retrieved for him. The spine was worn and the fabric cover was torn in the corners and fraying. It was all dirty, and splotches of James didn't even want to know what were all over it.

But needs must, James supposed, resenting touching the tome.

He pulled out his wand, muttered a few choice incantations, tapped the cover of the book a few times, muttered another spell, and then he was done.

Sidling back to where he was, no one the wiser, he placed the book back into the bag it belonged to.

"Quit pretending to be anything other than the little sycophant you are, Black," Snivellus hissed, standing up and trying his best to stare down Sirius who was several inches taller. James saw the Slytherin's fingers twitching toward his robe and knew he had to step in. This is where Act One needed to conclude, James thought, and Slughorn would be coming in any second now-- the man was always late to his own classes.

"Don't be so pretentious, Snivellus," James said coolly, laying a hand on Sirius' shoulder. Snape froze just a second before turning to glare at James. "Maybe you should apologize for always having yourself in the way," he said dryly. He heard Sirius laugh next to him.

Before Snape could even lash out or before Lily could admonish him, James strode back to his desk, Sirius already having made his way back, just as Professor Slughorn came striding in.

"Alright, we have a lot to cover, as you all know!" the Professor announced brusquely, hurrying to the board, unaware of what had just happened. Snape scrambled into his seat and looked as if he had deeply shamed his house. James smirked.

"The O.W.L.S. have a very special talent of sneaking up on you when you least expect it, and we must have you all prepared!" Slughorn sang as he flicked his wand. Instructions for a potion appeared on the board, and it looked slightly complicated, even for James. "We've been easing into our lessons these past couple of weeks, but now we have to hit them hard!

"I will be utterly disappointed if any of you fail my subject," Slughorn said, turning to look at the class. "But some of you I have the highest assurance of," he winked at Lily, James saw, and nodded to Snivelly. James thought it intolerable for his lovely Lily to be put on the same level as Snivellus.

Ah well, Snivellus would get his.

James opened to the page the directions told him to while Slughorn went on and on about the level of difficulty this potion was. The only reason why James even pretended to care about this class was because Lily had said it was her favorite.

"James," came Remus' soft voice behind him. James leaned back in his chair and tilted his head thoughtfully to show he was listening. "What did you do?" Moony asked him.

Just like a prefect.

"What do you mean?" he asked confusedly as he flipped the pages lazily.

"I know you're up to something," Remus whispered, "only because Sirius looks like Christmas has come early." James frowned exasperatedly over at Sirius who in turn scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

"What, mate?" Sirius pouted. "Remus is just pickin' on you again," he said. He tilted back in his chair, and he gave Remus a lopsided, upside-down grin. "Our hands are clean," he smiled. Remus' mouth got very tight, James saw from his peripheral vision.

"Just don't get _us_ into trouble," he quipped as he turned to his own Potions book.

"Us? What have you done?" Sirius asked, letting the legs of the chair thunk back onto the floor. He turned around to face Remus expectantly. "Feeling guilty, are you?" he asked, grinning.

"Me and Peter are always lumped in with your troubles," he said, his eyes moving back and forth over the words in his book. "Guilty by association." Sirius frowned and was about to reply when Slughorn rapped the board several times with his wand.

"Now, now, you four," he called, looking over at James and them, "Get to work or you will not make it in my class," he admonished gently. Slughorn, even though he was head of Slytherin, never punished James and his mates. Something about their charisma and talents made Slughorn… favor them. James saw Snape give the professor a look of incredulity, and it only fueled his fire.

"Yes, sir," James said automatically, finding the page at last. Sedosomnio, the title of the chapter read. James sighed. He remembered his mother making this for him and adding it to his tea whenever he had had nightmares as a kid-- He had always like the peppermint his mum had added to it-- and he felt a twinge of sympathy for his mum as he read over the instructions again.

Nasty little concoction to make.

Without a word, Sirius got up and walked over to the cabinet to retrieve the ingredients they would need while James set up their cauldron and tools. Ingredients in tow, Sirius came back just as James had lit the fire under the cauldron. They set to work quietly, Remus and Peter mirroring them as they, too, went to work.

But James was only biding his time.

They chopped the coriander, minced the leaves of the valerian, and James had to be careful when crushing the rue, not wanting any of the plant's oil to burn his skin. Minutes passed-- Slughorn made his rounds from student to student, observing their progress, praising Lily, clucking his tongue at Nott-- and James was being the good, diligent schoolboy as he stirred the ingredients in the cauldron.

After awhile, though, Sirius nudged him in the arm, and James knew, without even looking, that his friend's expression would be asking him if it was time yet. James smiled minutely and pulled out his wand from inside his robes. He adjusted the intensity of the flame with a spell, and then, as he was putting it back into his robes, he gave his wand another small wave, intoned a spell quietly, before he concealed it in his sleeve.

A crash of books and swishing of papers sounded, and James watched as Snape scrambled to pick them all up. Sadly, for him, as his book had fallen, it had also opened. James couldn't restrain the smile even if he had wanted to.

"OH YES!!"

Snape's hand stopped just short of the book.

"GODS, I WANT YOU!!" the book shouted. Snape's face paled to a lovely, and sickeningly, shade of white. The rest of the class fell silent, and Slughorn spun around as the book exclaimed more and more obscene things. "Ah-- that's… so… GOOD!!"

James watched with amusement as Snape's inky, pupil-less eyes widened so that his dark irises were but small circles against the white of his eyes. Slughorn began ordering Snape to shut the book up, hovering over him, face red with indignation, as the class erupted into fits of hysteria-- even the Slytherins laughed. Peter was banging his fist on his desk, shaking with laughter, as Sirius' eyes glinted with delight. Snape just sat there.

"Mmm-- MERLIN!! YES!!" the book yelled.

Finally, Snape lunged for the book and tried to shut it. It didn't, though. It was a common spell James had used to keep the book from shutting. Wizards used it all the time so that they didn't loose their place, or so that books, which sometimes had the nasty ability of being sentient, didn't shut themselves closed on the reader.

If Snape couldn't figure that out, he deserved it all.

"Don't-- STOP…!!"

Sirius was doubled over laughing now along with the rest of the class as the book moaned and screamed-- Slughorn looked as if he was going to hex something or someone-- while Snape just kneeled over it, book clutched in his white hands, looking helpless and incensed.

It was all so sweet for James.

Snivellus should know better.

James looked over at Lily. She was tilting over her desk looking as if she were struggling between helping Snivelly and keeping to her Gryffindor decorum which prohibited such a thing towards a Slytherin. James frowned. She should be laughing alongside everyone else, not fighting some urge to help him!

But she didn't seem amused at all.

James felt the hilarity and satisfaction in him whither away. What was the point if the girl he was avenging, the girl this whole prank was set up for, didn't find it funny? There wasn't one. James no longer found it funny either. Now he just didn't care.

He caught Snape glaring at him, eyes conveying that he knew exactly who to blame for this, but James felt nothing. He merely looked at Snape; Snape was nothing more than some black speck on the floor to James right then. James went back to his potion which was simmering just as it needed to. He'd get good marks for this one, James knew. _Just like how Mum used to make_…

Finally, Snape had seemed to remember the counter-spell to the that which locked his book open. James heard the muffled shut, and then the ecstasy-filled exclamations of the book deafened. But the entire class was still laughing, say for Snape, Remus, Lily, and now James.

Slughorn paused for a short moment, appearing stunned the book had actually stopped it's declarations, before turning to his board and furiously writing out the day's notes on the board as he lectured the class. Slughorn was ventilating to no one in particular, just fuming away as if the whole incident had been wholly offensive to him and not Snivellus. James just copied down the notes onto some parchment in between stirring the potion now bubbling blue while the class' laughter began to quiet a little.

All of a sudden, Sirius slapped James across the back just as James was mixing the contents, and it made the ladle he held knock into the cauldron, causing the contents to slosh dangerously close to the rim.

"Careful, Sirius," James said. "You don't want to spill the potion, do you?" Sirius took James' nonchalance as added humor to the prank they had just pulled, so he went along with it.

"'Course not, James," he said with a breathless voice, still chuckling a bit, "These kinds of things must be taken seriously." He started laughing again, but James didn't really know from what. James didn't really care at the moment either. Apart from apathy, he only felt one another sensation.

And it was building in the pit of his stomach.

He let Sirius add chamomile to the potion, the final ingredient, while he focused on that sensation. It wasn't nausea, James knew; after that one night him and Sirius had waged to see who could drink the most butterbeers in one sitting, there could be no confusion as to how _queasiness_ felt. He didn't think it was gas-- that was more painful than anything-- and he knew it wasn't because he was hungry-- all those pancakes he had eaten…

No, this felt… heavy… and it rose and fell like a wave of sorts.

"Hey, wanna pour this and hand it in?" Sirius asked him suddenly, breaking James from his thoughts. He looked to Sirius who was bent over the cauldron and wrinkling his nose as he sniffed the potion. Sirius, without looking at him, held out a phial to him, and James took it wordlessly, ladling in some of the Sedosomnio they'd made. He vanished what remained of the potion in the cauldron-- Sirius looked as if he was getting dazed from the fumes of it-- and made his way to place his and Sirius sample with everyone else's on Slughorn's desk.

As he made his way back, however, he walked past Snape. For a brief moment, he had caught Snape's eye, and that feeling in him reeled. Only, he felt it in his chest. It was a tightening pressure, and it made James stagger for a moment. He clutched at his chest for the briefest of seconds, before the feeling subsided and was gone, just like that.

Snape hesitated for a moment beside him. Then Snape smiled. It was ruthless.

"I'd say that was guilt," Snape hissed at him, his voice low and almost unintelligible, "but I think we both know better than that." James didn't even ponder what Snape had meant by that. He merely straightened fully so that he was looking down at Snape.

"I actually didn't know a lot of things until today," James said vaguely, smiling just slightly. "Tell me, Snivellus, what exactly is that book for?" he added lightly. Those closet to James and Snape laughed again, but Snape remained emotionless as he stared up at James.

"You have quite the imagination, Potter," Snape said coldly, quietly, spitting James' name as he spoke. And then he moved past James and to Slughorn's desk. James turned his head to retort something clever when he caught Lily's eyes.

There was no anger there.

No, that was sheer disappointment.

James held back his words and instead strode back to his desk where Sirius was waiting and watching him curiously.

"What was that about?" his friend asked him, cleaning up their supplies.

"What was what about?" James asked, plopping into his seat and running his hand through his hair.

"That-- just now-- with Snivellus." James peeked over his friend and grinned.

"I don't think he appreciated our prank, Sirius," James replied solemnly. He saw Remus shake his head slowly from the corner of his eye. Sirius feigned hurt.

"But that was a brilliant bit," Sirius protested. James shrugged his shoulders and put his hands in the air.

"What can I say, Sirius?" He lowered his hands and stared off at nothing in particular. "Suppose we'll just have to try harder the next time," he said distantly.

He heard Sirius snort in approval. Of course there'd be a next time.

Soon class was dismissed-- Slughorn looked all too eager to have everyone leave-- and Snape was the first out the door, the little snake. Everyone else, as they left, were all talking about the hilarity of Snape and the orgasmic book. James was just following behind Remus when his arm was grabbed suddenly and he was pulled back.

"Oy! What the hell do you think you're--" but he stopped as he registered it was Lily who had stopped him. "Oh," he said simply as Lily let his arm go. Sirius made to stay behind, but James waved his hand for him to leave. Sirius hesitated for a moment, but whether by Lily's expression or Remus' insistence, he left. James pretended to brush off some imaginary dust while he waited for Lily's lecture.

It didn't come.

She merely looked at him.

"Did you like the show?" James asked casually as students walked by.

"Don't," she snapped. That was good. James could work with anger.

"You mean you didn't? That's a shame, and after all the hard work--"

"Don't," she repeated, interjecting. James sighed.

"What is it Evans? I don't want to be late for Transfiguration," James said. "You know how McGonagall gets when someone's late to her--"

"Do you feel any better?" she asked him. Her tone was cold, and it was unlike anything James had ever heard from her before. He couldn't even think of anything to respond with, he was that stunned. "Yes, I supposed _you _would," she answered. James had enough reaction in him to feel his jaw tightened at that statement.

With one last tense second of Lily holding James captive with her disappointment, James felt the reverberation of that feeling from earlier, and then she was off, leaving James to stand there alone.

Her footsteps were echoing along the now abandoned corridor, and the light pouring in from the windows was bright.

And it was so strange.

The sensation claiming him once again was so strange. It started in his stomach and rose and rose until it was in the center of his esophagus.

And it burned.

But this wasn't like anything he had felt before. It was almost as if it were bile, jetting up from his gut, and yet James knew it wasn't that. It felt like a tightening pressure, like when he had held his breath for too long and everything would shrivel inside him until he let the breath out. And it was heavy. It was like a stone had been tossed to the very bottom of his stomach, and it was pulling him down.

And all James could do in that moment, caught in something he didn't know, was to try and breathe steadily.

* * *

A/N: Please review!!


	3. Detention and Encounters

Hope you enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter 2: Detention and Encounters**

"This is too strange."

James checked the clock that hung above the fireplace and heartily ignored the same comment Sirius had been making over and over again that night. It was getting tiring, not to mention annoying. Yes, it was bloody strange, but James was tired of hearing it.

"What are you going to do, Prongsie?" Sirius asked him as he reclined further into his chair. James didn't respond; he was tired of Sirius asking that question, too, so he ticked off the seconds and watched as the hour hand crept ever closer to Eight o'clock.

It was unusual for the common room to be as deserted as it was right then. Usually, after supper, it was much more crowded, everyone piling in the room to work on assignments or to study, and one usually had to vie for a seat. This evening, however, it seemed everyone preferred the library or the dorms. Only James and his mischievous three friends (plus two seventh years and a dozing sixth) occupied the room.

Currently, Sirius laid in a high-back chair while Remus sat at the foot of it using the table before him for all his books and papers-- Remus would be the only of them to study at a time like this. Peter was snoring unbearably loud in the chair across from them. James, however, was too restless to be idle and so took to pacing back and forth.

"James, really mate, what are you going to do?" Sirius asked again. James, at the moment, really hated the way Sirius was smirking. He should be exuding his condolences to James, not taking delight from his' plight. James gritted his teeth.

"I guess what we always do when we get detention," James said a bit caustically. He had been feeling on edge lately-- Sirius' banter wasn't helping it any-- but thankfully James had a good excuse to blame it on.

"But that's different," Sirius replied, spelling Remus' papers to start levitating off the table and around his head. "You're going into this one alone." Remus, looking completely peeved, began snatching the papers floating in the air and grumbling about Sirius and how he wished it was Sirius who had detention-- that way he could at least get some studying done. James found he quite agreed with that.

He wondered if he could find McGonagall and barter his freedom for Sirius' captivity. Surely she would agree to that-- Sirius was the one who had turned her hat into a birds nest (birds and all).

… but Sirius hadn't been the one late to her class, so…

James sighed bitterly as he plopped himself into a free chair. Sirius was grinning at him again and was opening his mouth to, no doubt, ask the same bloody question, when James, fed up, hexed Sirius mouth shut with a silencing charm. Sirius began to mumble through his closed lips and waved his arms about. Remus looked up at Sirius approvingly.

"Why hadn't I ever thought of that before?" Remus mused. Sirius glared at him and tried to kick him. However, Remus' reflexes were too quick for Sirius, and he quickly shifted out of harm's way. Peter let out a rather obnoxious snort just then, but before James could perform the same silencing spell, the clock chimed.

"Dear James," Remus said somberly as he moved his books away from Sirius' still kicking leg, "may the lion lend you its courage." James smiled tightly as he placed a hand over his heart and bowed. The saying wasn't as funny as it usually was, because usually James wasn't the only one it needed saying to.

As he climbed through the portrait hole, he was suddenly pulled back. James whirled around to find Sirius clutching his robes, looking oh so angry. James smiled sweetly as patted his friend's cheek.

"Don't worry for me, Sirius," he said dramatically, "I will return." He yanked his robes from Sirius' hand and scrambled through the hole before Sirius could grab him again. "You better hope I make it through!" James laughed on the other side, "Or else no one will undo that charm. You know everyone prefers you that way." He waved as the portrait of the Fat Lady swung closed on Sirius glaring expression.

Turning around, James felt the smile slip from his face like water. Smiling was effortless to him, anyway, and it was just as easy to be rid of it.

He took his time as he made his way for his transfiguration classroom. He wondered idly what he'd be doing to pass the time. Usually, the teachers would make the Marauders clean up whatever prank they had unleashed and been caught at-- the pranks usually resulting in messes. But tonight James was on his own, and he hadn't been caught at a prank. He'd just been late to McGonagall's class.

That thought always made that _feeling_ incite within him.

Rarely did James ever think that something was unjust. If he and the Marauders got caught at their games, then it was only fair they be punished-- If they couldn't get away clean then they deserved to clean. If he jinxed someone in the hall, it was because they deserved it-- They probably got in James' way or looked at Lily. And if James was particularly harsh with a certain Slytherin than that was perfectly justified-- that Slytherin always deserved it.

But this was ridiculous.

It hadn't been James' fault that he was late. He had been detained, and even though it had been Lily that kept him, James didn't think it was right to blame her. No, it had been something else, something else that had kept him spelled to the spot in the deserted hall. James just didn't know what that was yet, and so the whole situation felt so completely unjust to him.

But he trudged on to his classroom.

He reached his destination and knew his professor was already alerted to his presence. Pushing the door open with a creak, he entered. Sure enough, McGonagall was already coming around the desk with a pile of papers in her hands.

"Glad to see you managed to be prompt this time, Mr. Potter," McGonagall said with a chill severity. James knew better than to mess with his professor when she was this way. No, best he tried to appease her as much as he could without being cloy.

"Yes, ma'am. I don't want another strike against me," James said in defeat as McGonagall handed him the stack of parchment.

"Oh I say we past all the allotted strikes in your first year, James," she said returning to her desk. James smiled. If she was already using his first name than this detention may not be so bad.

"Are these essays I'm helping you grade?" James asked, lazily flipping through some of them. He was disappointed to find that they weren't essays at all but loads and loads of notes. A shame. He would have loved to mark down those Slytherins' papers.

"I need to file through all those by subject matter and then further according to their dates," McGonagall said, picking up a quill and scribing away on her own stack of parchment in red ink. "It seems I let a few things slip from orderliness," she said, James was sure, more to herself. James hoped she became so engaged her own task that she would dismiss him entirely. That way, James could relax more while he set to work on his own mundane, tedious, and utterly boring chore.

He settled into the desk he used during Transfiguration and promptly began sifting and sorting through the pile. After awhile, he realized the surface of his one desk would not be enough for the smaller stacks he was creating, so he scooted three others up against his own.

James was certain eons and eternities had crawled by once he had managed to sort all the notes according to the subject matter-- he had a pile for Switching-Spells, for Untransfiguration, for Animagi transformations, and so on. It was very difficult, however, to stifle the groan that wanted to escape from him when he glanced at the clock floating just behind his professor's bowed head. Only an hour had passed.

He was rather hoping that enough time had passed that he could have return to his dorm for the night, whether the task had been completed or not-- Surely McGonagall was sensible enough not to detain her own student way past his bedtime? However, it was becoming more apparent that James would just have to grit his teeth and get through the injustice.

At least if Pads, Moony, and Wormtail were with him, he wouldn't be so completely bored. And on top of the injustice and boredum, he now had a cramp in his neck. Splendid.

James shuffled through the last papers of the stack, arranged them as they needed to be, raised his arms above his head, and stretched.

"Done at last, Mr. Potter?" came McGonagall. James stifled the yawn that was just escaping and grinned sheepishly.

"It's a shame it's over," James joked.

"Well, if I had only realized it was such an effective means of punishment, I would have used it sooner," she said, peering at him over her square spectacles. James only managed a half smile. "Oh well. There's always the next time." She removed her glasses at looked at him pointedly. "You may go now, Mr. Potter. I trust you will be on time tomorrow." It wasn't just a statement but a subtle promise that she would, indeed, repeat tonight's torture should James blunder again. Inwardly, he grimaced at such a thought, and silently, after one last bow to his professor, left her classroom.

It wasn't until he had ascended three flights of steps that he realized McGonagall hadn't given him a pass of any sort, and nasty Filch was always stalking the corridors at night looking for wandering students. If he was caught… James wondered if McGonagall had forgotten on purpose, but nixed that idea. The lady was getting on in years, and memory fades quicker than youth. James couldn't begrudge her for her faulty memory.

He rounded a corner, happy to find no Filch or Mrs. Norris, and walked under the snoozing portraits. He wondered if anyone would be waiting up for him. Sirius was a good bet. He was probably waiting up for him so James could undo the jinx. Then again, Remus often gave in to Sirius' relentless pouting, so there was a fair chance that Sirius was waiting up just so he could get James.

On second thought, how could James possibly be expected to sleep when his stomach was slightly growling? Turning on his heels, he backtracked through the corridor, headed down to the Entrance Hall, and then down the stairs that would lead him to the Hufflepuff common room. However, instead of turning right, he made a left, and after walking for a few minutes, he found the revered pear painting. He picked the spot, rose his fingers to the canvas, and began tickling the pear. It wriggled and then it swung open.

A warm, smoky smell wafted over to him as he stepped beyond the frame of the picture and into the school kitchen. Most of the house elves were snoozing away in their crib-like beds, but there were still some awake. Two spotted him and quickly made their way over to him, bowing and stumbling the whole time.

"Master Potter!" one exclaimed. His pillowcase attire was soiled with soot and spices, and he twisted them in his hands as if he were embarrassed to be dressed so. "Can we help you, sir?" He looked at him imploringly, and James was happy to oblige.

"Well, I am feeling a bit hungry…" he said, scratching his nose sheepishly. The second of the two beamed at him, her large, yellow, bat-like eyes staring at him gratefully.

"Of course, sir! Dippy and I is glad to cook for you!" She waddled over to one of the large pantries in the back. James chose a seat at one of the replica tables that mirrored the four in the Great Hall while the two house elves whipped him something up. He gazed across the room. How strange would it be…

He stood up and made his way to one of the end tables and sat down. It was a stupid curiosity, anyway. It wasn't like this was the actual Slytherin table (the fact that James was in the kitchen made that obvious), but James wanted to see how it felt to be on the opposite side of where he normally sat, where he normally stood.

But it was a stupid curiosity because the only thing he ended up feeling was the grumbling of his stomach.

"Ah! Here we is!" the boy house elf cried, placing a bowl before James.

"Eat up, please, sir!" the girl one squeaked. They disappeared into the room where the beds were kept and left James by himself. The soup was simple, but it smelled so good. Besides, the house elves didn't have to go out of the way (not that it was out of their way; James just liked the idea of sounding chivalrous), and James was grateful, nonetheless.

When the soup was completely gone (the house elves were so pleased that James had eaten every last drop), he was sent on his way with a piece of toast. James didn't know if the bread was some kind of farewell gift, but he accepted happily. He left the coziness if the kitchen, deciding that surely Sirius had either given up his stakeout or had gone to bed.

Clearing the stairs up to the Entrance Hall, James made to head to the seventh floor when he thought he heard something. Fearing it was Filch (and inwardly cursing that he didn't have his invisibility cloak), he darted across the hall and ducked behind the statues guarding the oak front doors. He peered around the shoulder of the statue cautiously. What he should really be on the look out for was the damn cat of Filch's.

A shadow emerged from the stairs leading from the dungeons. It crept around and up the Grand Staircase. James watched as it ascended the steps and disappeared from view. James certainly wasn't going to cower behind a statue all night long, and really! Best he keep an eye on the shadow from behind rather than it sneaking up on him.

James followed after the shadow carefully, at least until he could get to the seventh floor (the shadow was most likely Filch; it did have that weird hunched posture like the caretaker). James searched the floor while also keeping an eye on Filch. That sneaky cat was sure to be around her master. As long as James kept out of the cat's sight, he'd keep out of Filch's. The worrisome thing, though, was that he couldn't seem to locate any figure remotely resembling a cat.

He shouldn't even be looking for anyone or skulking around in darkness. And he wouldn't be in this mess if not for that detention (James couldn't say it was him going to the kitchen; he had needed food), and he wouldn't have received that detention if not for…

It was really all Snivellus' fault. Because he was so pathetically… pathetic, it made Lily feel sorry for him, and because of that, of course she wouldn't have found James' prank funny! Then she wouldn't have lectured him, and then James wouldn't have felt so… Damn Snivellus!

While lost in thought, James also lost site of the shadow. He panicked for a second when he realized Filch had disappeared, but rather than remain frozen and assuredly getting caught, he continued to go up the steps. Finally, he reached the seventh floor. He kept looking back to make sure Filch wasn't tailing him, but didn't see any sign of him.

As he crossed the floor, there came a strange hissing sound. He thought it odd but continued on anyway. As he neared the foot of the stairwell leading to the Gryffindor tower, the hissing became louder. He tiptoed up the steps wandering if he was stupid for willfully walking up towards such strange noises when the hissing stopped. Instead, voices emerged.

He braced himself against the curving wall and sidled along it as he climbed higher.

"I know that." The voice belonged to a girl, one that, even muffled, was distinctive as being Lily's. James stopped.

"You don't, though," another said. It was too low for James to know who it belonged to.

"This is why you called me out so late? For this?" James found it strange to hear such a tone coming from Lily on the non-receiving end of it-- it was usually reserved only for him.

"You didn't use to mind so much," the other replied. James was positive that it, at least, belonged to a guy. Why was Lily up talking to another guy besides James?

"That was before I had to spend all my time studying for the O.W.L.S.," she answered back tersely.

"No, it's because of him," the other spat.

"Oh please! Stop being so presumptuous," she demanded curtly. Yes, it was indeed bizarre to hear Lily so miffed with anyone besides James. And why was he feeling so jealous about it?

"When did you start lying so much?" he asked, his voice a strange, low hissing.

"About the same time you did," she retorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You can figure it out while I go back to sleep," she replied with a finality that would have even made James shut it. Who was this other person?

Thinking the conversation to be over, James took his chance to head back down the steps if only to avoid running into the other person. Was this the Filch shadow he had been following? Back on the seventh floor, he took refuge in a shadowy corner that left him a perfect view of the stairs. Whoever it was wouldn't remain a mystery long. James wracked his mind of all the guys Lily had close-ish ties with. James was number one, of course, followed by Sirius; Remus; Fred Longbottom; that Ravenclaw nerd, Allen; and… that was really about it (besides some of the teachers like Dumbledore, Slughorn, and Ol' Flitwick). So was that Allen then?

The figure finally came into view. James focused on him. When he really thought about it, the way the guy walked… something about it seemed… familiar…

James narrowed his eyes, squinting in the dark to discern who the shadow-man was. The way it crept-- It was so skittish-like…

James stomach dropped, and he gasped out loud. He covered his mouth but too late. The familiar figure stopped in his tracks, and James could tell he was looking over in his direction.

No. No way. It couldn't possibly be--!

"I know you're there," Snape hissed, hunching down even lower. James remained where he stood, not believing what he was seeing. Anger began worming its way up through his gut and then throughout him, making his heart surge forcefully. How could Lily?

"I said I know you're there!"

James stepped out of the shadows nonchalantly, his hands in his pockets, a smile on his face. Snape tensed at the sight of him. James wondered what would Snape have done if James had been Filch? Then he smiled, thinking that if that had been the case, Snape would have been very fortunate.

"Out of your lair? And at this time of night?" James asked walking closer, his slow footsteps echoing in the corridor.

"I could ask the same of you?" Snape whispered venomously. James shook his head and pulled his hand out of his pocket. Snape, with the reflexives of a paranoid viper, pulled out his wand, aiming it directly at James. James stopped and with his hand, rubbed his stomach.

"Afraid I was out getting food from the kitchens," James smiled. "What's your excuse?" he asked, his tone dropping in volume, becoming a deadpanned whisper. Snape didn't say anything. He just held his wand steady. James was certain Snape knew what he was getting at or else Snape wouldn't have that expression on his pallid face.

"You know…. I have a theory about you," Snape said to him, a confidence that James didn't like gleaming in his beetle-black eyes. "I'm touched that you seem to be thinking of me. That-- and I'm disgusted," James replied, pocketing his hand again.

"Not as much as I am."

"I said I'm dis-gust-ted, not disgus-_ting_," James stated, leaning forward and raising his voice slightly. "You must not have heard me, or else you wouldn't have just insulted yourself. Then again," and he straightened, grinning maliciously, "--maybe even you realize how unsightly you are." Snape stared at him for a moment. He was probably working out the great insult James had thrown his way. At any moment, Snape would either seethe, convulse, or curse him. Maybe all three! Wouldn't that be amusing…

Snape, instead, smiled ruthlessly.

"That's right," came his voice, and he lowered his wand. "Keep proving me right, Potter," he said. What? What does he mean?

"Snivellus…" James said, clucking his tongue in disappointment, "Why do you insist on the impossible? You being right? Thinking you can someday _beat_ me?" Then he narrowed his eyes. "Lily?" Snape's eyes widened just a fracture then his lip curled.

"Do you ever have the slightest clue about what you're talking about?" Snape asked him. What kind of question was that? Of course he did! How could he have asked such a thing when he has never once bested James at anything? "No, I suppose not."

He looked at him for a second more before pocketing his wand. Then he walked towards James. James didn't react; he didn't have to. There was no way that Snivellus could outdo James. At anything. Snape stopped right beside him, and without turning to look at him he said, "Tell me, what did Evans make of your… little stunt earlier?" And without an answer, he walked off.

It wasn't until James could barely hear the muffled footsteps of Snape that he tore off after him. He ran down the corridor before overtaking Snape and stopping right in front of the Slytherin. Snape didn't even act surprised, more like he knew James was going to come after him. That made James even more angry.

Something in his stomach bubbled caustically, burning in him like sulfuric acid.

"You didn't give me the chance to ask you what your theory was," James said. Snape observed him emotionlessly, his eyes unreadable.

"What did the sorting hat ever say to you?" he asked evenly. James straightened reflexively, an intake of breath sounding in the silence between him and Snape.

"Why?" James asked darkly. Snape lifted his chin and stared at James as if the answer to James' question should be obvious. "Why?" he repeated.

"That's my theory," he said simply. James had had enough of the pointless banter. If Snape wasn't going to elaborate, that meant he had no theory. And if he had no theory, then he was wasting James' time. He pulled out his wand.

"Maybe I should hex you. Seal your mouth up so nobody would ever have to hear you again," James said lightly. Snape pulled out his own, gnarled wand. "Honestly, Snivellus? Think you can take me?" James chuckled a little.

They stared at each other, their wands drawn, raised leveled with each other's chests.

Snape was opening his mouth to spell a curse, James preparing himself for a counter, when Filch rounded the corner. James froze. Both he and Snape watched as Filch limped down the hall, a small lantern in his hand. He was muttering to himself and reading from a parchment, oblivious to the two boys' presences. Silently, both boys lowered their wands and crossed to a shadowed side of the hall.

Filch drew nearer, his lantern held up close to his withered, scowling face, all the while muttering to himself. James and Snape sunk deeper into the shadows, and James realized how close he was to the Slytherin. It was nauseating, but there was nothing he could do.

How despairing was it that left with the option of being discovered by Filch or cowering alongside Snivellus James picked the latter?

Utterly nauseating.

Filch was right upon them, the light of his tiny lantern threatening to expose James and Snape both when Snivellus pulled out his wand.

"Exstinguo," he intoned in a whisper. The light of Filch's oil lamp flickered and blew out.

"Wha--?! WHO'S THERE?" Filch bellowed. James could recognize an opportunity when one presented itself. He crawled out from against the wall as he felt Snape do the same. They snuck behind Filch a small distance away and then they edged along the opposite wall.

"I can hear you breathing, you know!" Filch cried, and James heard the shuffling of clothing. Then he heard the familiar scratch of a match against a coarse surface. Without delay, he ran for the stairwell, and as soon as he reached it, the light flooded the corridor once again.

Without knowing why, James turned his head around. Snape was nowhere to be seen. James kept running, skipping two to three steps at a time. Upon reaching the portrait of a sleeping, fat lady, James breathlessly shouted the password. She blinked down at him blearily and yawned.

"James? What is it now? I'm sleeping," she yawned again. James fidgeted from foot to foot hearing Filch making his way to the stairwell.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! Just open up!" he demanded as he kept looking behind his shoulder. Why didn't he bring his invisibility cloak? Oh right… detention.

The fat lady opened her mouth in shock, her expression quite aghast. James knew that look.

"Pease!" he shouted.

"I heard you!" came Filch's voice, too close for comfort.

"Please!" James repeated, more desperately.

"Oh alright!" she huffed. Then with a creak, she swung open. James didn't even wait for it to fully open before he squeezed in through the frame and crawled out of the hole. He didn't even stop running once he made it into the common room. He went strait for the stairs and to the fifth year boy's dormitories. Panic forced James to completely disregard courtesy and he flung the door open and then slammed it shut.

Remus awoke with a start while Sirius jump and toppled over the side of his bed. Peter snoozed on.

"… James? What in the---?" Remus asked him drowsily, his eyes still closed tightly, heavy with sleep. James waited for his breath to catch up with him. "Why'd you slam the door?"

"What are you on about, Moony?" James asked, inching to his bed and then quietly crawling in.

"That noise…" Sirius grunted, climbing back into bed sleepily.

"Yeah… what was that?" James asked, looking about the room. Remus rubbed at his eyes and tried to focus on James, but they kept closing instead. Sirius, in the three second silence, had already found enough peace to fall back asleep.

"That was you," Remus said with a tired conviction.

"Moony, you were just dreaming so go back to bed," James said, pulling the covers up over his face. Remus tried to stare at James a bit longer as James could feel his friend's eyes upon him, but instead of protesting, James heard Remus rustling in his bed sheets, never saying another word. It took a minute or so, but finally Remus fell back to sleep.

James' heart continued to race with panic and relief.

That had been so close.

James burrowed his face into his mattress feeling… pathetic. It wasn't that James was afraid of getting caught (how many times have he and the Marauders been given detention?). It was just that Snape had been there. James couldn't be caught alongside Snape. His comrades Sirius, Remus, and Peter, yes! But with Snape? James had run away like a panicked child.

Pathetic.

And it had been Snape who had given them the chance to escape. While James had lost his nerve crouching next to the Slytherin, Snape had remembered that they had the use of magic against Filch. And to top it all off, James had a sneaking suspicion that Snape was feeling… triumphant. He shouldn't, though. If Filch hadn't shown up, there wasn't any way that Snape would have felt any sense of victory.

Then there was the way he had mentioned Lily…

It made something ache and fester in his chest. The thought that Lily and Snivellus were whispering to each other, no matter in anger, was a betrayal to James. Lily had said that Snape had called her out… So that meant she had obeyed his request and saw him. And in the dead of night...

James brought his knees close to his face as he curled up on his side, trying to hide how pitiful he felt under the blankets.

Snape… What had this whole night meant?

He closed his eyes and tried to numb himself. Numb the anger, the resentment, the panic, the pity…

… that unnamable emotion…

With his mind blanking, he soon found enough calmness to finally fall into a restless slumber. He dreamt of the sorting hat hopping on his head, laughing and singing, and just as James was picking up on the lyrics and was about to jump in, the hat stopped. Then it began to eat at his head. James threw it off and ran out of the dining hall. He fled to the Gryffindor tower, but just as he had reached the tower it crumbled away, and he fell into a dark abyss.

Blackness surrounded him as he plunged, but when he focused into the dark, he could see eyes and wide, slit mouths. And they were laughing at him. No, cackling at him. Screeching and screaming and cackling his demise.

He suddenly landed on a cold, stone floor. Water was everywhere. There at his hand was his invisibility cloak. He went to grab it, to cover up, to hide when, as his hand touched it, it shot back from him. It laid still, but then it begun to raise up. Higher and higher it rose until it grew and formed into the cloak figure of a man. The man loomed over James and laughed at him.

James woke up suddenly.

"'bout time you woke up," Sirius said, leaning back. James stared up at a fuzzy Sirius. He grabbed his glasses and put them on. Sirius was looking at him curiously. "You okay, mate?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" James asked, stretching.

"You're all… sweaty," Sirius replied. James felt his brow, and it was, indeed, coated in sweat.

"I'm just hot… I guess," James answered uncertainly. Sirius quirked an eyebrow.

"You guess?"

"Well, I'm not now-- anymore. I must have been when I slept." He kicked off the covers and made a sound of relief. "Gotta air out!" he laughed. Sirius locked James' head between his arm and grinded his knuckles atop James' head.

"Come on. We gotta get breakfast," Sirius said, still punishing James.

"Okay!" James said at he popped his head free of Sirius' clutches. His glasses were knocked askew, so he fixed them and asked Sirius about the whereabouts of dear Moony and Peter.

"Getting breakfast," Sirius said, tossing James his jumper. "Which is where we should be." James laughed and pulled the jumper over his head. He got out of bed and was trying to find his pants when Sirius asked him what he was doing.

"Looking for my pants," he replied, searching under his bed.

"You're-- uh… already wearing 'em."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Yeah…" They looked at each other.

"So… breakfast then?" Sirius stated, thumbing over to the door.

"Right," James said, getting to his feet.

As they walked down the Grand Staircase, Sirius looked over at James.

"I'm not going to ask why you were fully dressed," he sternly proclaimed, and James glanced at him curiously.

"Okay," and they made their way to breakfast where dear Remy had already made them both a plate. It was easy to slip into an easy conversation with his mates. He didn't look for Lily, but he was certain she was looking at him. He ignored her and spooned himself some porridge. Sirius and Remus soon got into an argument about vampires and whether or not they ate people's brains, and James lost himself to thought.

Why had he been sweating? He Didn't remember dreaming or even falling asleep. He probably did just have too many covers on while he slept. People had often told him he was hot natured.

He glanced up from the bowl of porridge he'd been staring into.

Snape was looking at him.

And not just looking, smirking.

James straightened.

"That would make them cannibals, Sirius," Remus was saying. "And vampires aren't cannibals. Right, James?" James wasn't paying attention. "Right?" James glanced over to Remus.

"If they drink blood, it's like cannibalism," Sirius stated flatly. "It amounts to the same thing."

"Technically, it doesn't."

"Isn't the whole argument illegit?" James asked. Remus and Sirius stopped arguing and stared at him. "They're technically not human beings anymore, so they can't be cannibals," James said. He went to look over at the Slytherin table, but Snape was looking at him anymore. He was talking to Sirius' younger brother, Regulus.

"I've lost interest, anyway," Sirius said, huffing back into his seat.

"Sure," Remus said disbelievingly, biting into a crunchy piece of toast.

They all fell into a conversation about Slughorn's next party all through breakfast and on their way to their first class. James, the entire time, successfully ignored Lily's blatant staring form behind, still feeling too resentful to approach or acknowledge her.

And again, James knew just who to blame.

When will Snape ever learn his lesson?

* * *

The library was filled with fifth year students, each table groaning under the weight of books after books. James meandered by all the little study sessions, wondering how he could have been so thick as to assume that there would be a table open just for him.

"Should we practice it, then? Later?" James heard a fifth year Hufflepuffs ask.

"No, no, no! I'm not going to have hexes thrown at me just so I can practice the Shield Charm," a girl replied.

"It'll probably come up, though. William was saying that when he did his charms test last year, they told him he had to do a shield charm or he wouldn't pass," another girl whispered darkly. The two other Hufflepuffs exchanged brief glances of concern before the first girl bowed her head and consented to a secret Protego practice session.

The attempt of finding a table was proving to be more futile as James went on. Not wanting to waste time, James decided that using an abandoned classroom would suit his needs just as well as a library could.

It wasn't hard to find one either (the third floor was practically forgotten except for Charms class); James picked the less dustiest one and set to work with his books. Despite what people assumed, not everything came easy to James, and History was just one of those obstacles. James liked to think that it was really Binns' fault and not James' because how could James be expected to learn anything when the ghostly professor always put him to sleep? However, James couldn't fall behind, so there he was in an abandoned classroom with several history books scattered about him, his quill at the ready to jot down any useful information.

The light coming in from the window weakened and then darkened as time went on. James was amazed he had been able to gather so many notes in the short span of time. Three pieces of 24 inch parchment was crammed with tiny, black scrawling. He surveyed the window behind him, debating whether or not he had enough time to get a few short rides off his broom before it became too dark and decided that he did.

He summoned all his books towards him and placed them in his bag. He didn't head to the Gryffindor tower to drop off his books, rather he brought them with him to the Quidditch field not wanting to waste any time. He reached the changing rooms, stowed his books in place of his broom he retrieved, and headed out onto the field after grabbing a case filled with each Quidditch ball. He left the snitch in its tiny spot and grabbed the quaffle and the bludger. James took the quaffle in his arms, mounted his broom, and just before shooting upwards, jinxed the bludger.

He soared up and up and then he dropped the quaffle and jinxed it, too, making it fly as it were being passed between invisible players. He swerved on his broom to avoid the bludger made to fly at him and caught the quaffle as it darted back and forth in the air. He sped towards one of the three goal posts, feigned a throw to the center one and then threw it into the one on the left. The quaffle whizzed into the goalposts, stopped, shot back through towards the center of the field, and resumed its wayward bounding.

James spent the hour soaring, catching and throwing quaffles, avoiding the bludger, and having untroubled fun. The upcoming match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw would be an easy one, no doubt about that, even if their newest chaser wasn't on par with James (or anywhere near his skill level). They'd still win. McGonagall would be proud.

James landed softly on the ground, quaffle in tow, and just when the bludger neared him, he removed the jinx, and it fell to the ground with a muffled thud. He stored the equipment back in the case and then put up the case and his broom. As he left the changing room, his bag weighing heavily on his tired shoulder, Lily was waiting for him. He stopped.

"Evening, James," she greeted formally, unlatching her fingers behind her and stepping forward.

"Evening," James returned, shifting the strap on his shoulder to a more comfortable position.

"You always look so confident up on that broom of yours," Lily said. "Then again, you do about everything." James just watched her waiting for her to get the point of this encounter. She looked at him and sighed, obviously realizing that beating around the bush was pointless.

"Listen, the upcoming trip to Hogsmeade-- I was wondering if you… would want to go with me to that new shop that's just opened up. You know, the potions emporium?" At the mention of "potion," James felt a renewed surge of bitterness. Lily stared at him, her brows furrowed together.

"Can't," James said simply. Lily nodded her head slowly.

"Oh, alright then," she said, looking, dare James think it?, slightly crestfallen.

"It's just that we're all skipping the trip to practice for the Quidditch match," James explained further.

"That's right. It's coming up next week." She smiled and James felt the bitterness get melted away a little. "You know it's going to be no competition," Lily stated, smirking mischievously. James smiled despite himself, the girl was just too adorable.

"The point now is to make it at least interesting for the spectators," James grinned. "But don't worry. I've been working on a few tactics that are sure to amaze even you, Evans," James told her. She laughed, her voice so light in the chilled night.

"We'll see," she giggled. She looked at the ground then, her red hair falling slightly into her face, and James had to force himself from reaching towards her and tucking it behind her ears. "I'm glad," she said quietly. James had to lean forward because he couldn't hear her so well. What had she said? She was mad? What about this time? If anything it should be James who--

"I thought you… weren't really talking to me," she said, looking up at him. James straightened reflexively and felt himself blush a little from the closeness to her face.

"What are you on about," he said, not looking at her.

"You've been ignoring me these past two days," she said. James didn't say anything, but he was sure Lily would take his silence as an affirmation. "I'm pretty sure I know why, though." James looked at her curiously. "You're brilliant, James," she said, her cheeks flushing, and it made James' heart speed up. "You know that. It's just that sometimes… I don't always get why you abuse your… cleverness."

James blinked stupidly.

"I know you and Sirius thought you were so funny with that prank and all, but I just won't ever understand it," she went on. James narrowed his eyes.

"Because it was Snivellus who was at the mercy of it?" James asked her, his tone even despite his frustration. She shook her head, her hair billowing slightly.

"That's not a fair statement," she said.

"How's that not a fair question?"

"Because Snape is the only one who you do that stuff to," she said with a edge to her voice. "But I'd be upset if those things were done to anyone. Would you do pull those pranks on me?" she asked, looking at him angrily.

"You know I wouldn't ever--" James tried.

"How am I supposed to assume that?" she went on.

"Have I ever?" James retorted.

"Not yet," she said simply.

"Not yet?" James repeated. James sighed. Budging was the only way now to soothe Lily. "I'll admit I poke fun at others, but I wouldn't ever do them on--"

"People you like?" Lily finished flatly.

"Exactly," James said, smiling. At last, she's gotten it. But Lily's anger slipped away into a saddened expression. It confused James.

"Why would you make a point to belittle those you dislike?" she asked softly. It happened rarely (though it was occurring more frequently in the past weeks), but James begrudging Lily's presence at the moment. Did she a point to wait on him just so that she could lecture him. And then he thought about the question Snape put to him. _What did Evans make of your… little stunt?_

"Look, Evans, it's late and I wanna make it in time for supper," James said harshly. She looked at him, her brilliant, green eyes widening. "If this is all you came out here to say then you've wasted my and your time." He walked off, leaving her to stand alone.

_And to answer you question, Lils,_ James thought darkly as he made his way to the Gryffindor tower, _It's because I hate him so much that he deserves it. _

_

* * *

_

A/N: I really do love writing to this story (whenever I can find time or make time). Severus is my hands-down favorite character from the canon (how anyone can't like him is beyond me), so I hope to do him justice. Merlin knows he didn't receive much of it in the canon (Poor Sev...). Anywho, I hoped you liked it!


	4. And the Victor is

Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 3: And the Victor is…**

The roaring of the crowds could be heard just as clearly from inside the changing room as well as being on the field. Hearing it excited James and made the blood rush to his head. His fingers twitched with anticipation as he gripped his broom tightly, and he danced from left leg to right leg as he waited behind his fellow teammates. The light snuck in between the cracks of the wooden door, and James tried to look out through them, his anticipation needing some kind of outlet. He saw nothing past the light, but the crowing of the crowd reached him just fine.

"Ready?" the Gryffindor team captain, William, asked. He was a chaser like James, and this year was the last year at Hogwarts for him. That made all the matches all the more important for William, and not one could be lost. He had worked James and the entire team hard through day and night. James grinned.

"Ready," he said alongside the others. The captain smiled and nodded. The look in his eyes sought victory, and James was certain that's exactly what they'd achieve. James had been practicing a lot on his own, too. There was no way they'd loose.

The captain pushed open the wooden doors just as the announcer called for the Gryffindor team, and one by one, they filed out onto the field, their heads held high and brooms held vertically by their side. James fancied the brooms like spears and they were soldiers marching onto battle. He could be so poetic when he wanted to be, and it amused him to think like this.

His team got into position, facing the Ravenclaw team, and James felt sorry for the other team. Loosing so horribly would be very humiliating for them, but that was just how it was going to be. He watched as Madam Hooch, a young woman with fierce, golden eyes, stepped between the opposing teams, her hand held high.

"Ready on my mark," she announced, her voice made louder by a spell. James tensed and waited for her signal. Her hand came down with a slash and just like that, all the players mounted their brooms and kicked off with such intensity that dirt was winded up in clouds. Higher and higher James flew until he was level with the two other Gryffindor chaser. The quaffle, along with the bludger and snitch, was released into the air, and James dove down to catch it. He outstretched his fingers and scooped the ball into his arms just as a Ravenclaw chaser came to do the same. Too bad for him, though. James was always one step ahead.

He zipped to the left, swirled around a Ravenclaw beater and passed the quaffle to Amelia, the third chaser of Gryffindor, just as two Ravenclaws enclosed in on him. The crowd cheered as James abruptly stopped and the two Ravenclaws, their reflexes too slow, collided into one another. Amelia, with no one following her, whirled the quaffle into the third hoop, the Ravenclaw keeper missing it by milliseconds. James whooped with the crowd.

He circled back to the center as the Ravenclaw keeper threw the quaffle to one of his teammates. She caught it and shot off towards the Gryffindor goals. James easily kept up with the player, William on the other side of her, and together the Gryffindor chaser waited for the Ravenclaw to make her move. She was panicking, James could tell, and she looked at him as the flew closer to the hoops. He smiled charmingly.

That's when she blundered. She made to throw behind her, sensing her teammate following close behind, but she misgauged the distance. The quaffle fell just short, but William fell back and retrieved it easily enough. James veered to the right and pulled upwards. A bludger came from behind the bleachers and missed James narrowly. The Ravenclaw girl, unfortunately, never saw it coming. It crashed into the tail of her broom and sent her spiraling out of control. James hesitated for just an moment, but she regained control just before hitting the ground.

James watched as William made to pass the quaffle on towards Amelia, but a Ravenclaw chaser intercepted it. James inwardly cursed and shot off towards the Ravenclaw. Just as James was overtaking him, the Ravenclaw released the quaffle and it was caught by the girl. Without delay, she whizzed it towards the Gryffindor goalpost. James held his breath as Thomas, their keeper, caught the quaffle by the tips of his fingers. James threw his hand up in the air and took possession of the quaffle as Thomas threw it over to him.

All the while, the announcer, a Hufflepuff whose voice was too timid over the clamoring of the crowds, followed the game with precise detail. The game was 36 to 4 in favor of Gryffindor. The snitch still hadn't been found which was fine for James. He could do this all day. He wanted to utterly annihilate his opponents, and thought he could earn a few more points for Gryffindor.

Currently, William was in possession of the quaffle and he threw it to James, and just as quickly as he had caught it, he sent it flying back to William. AS they sped forward, they exchanged the quaffle back and forth between them with such speed, they Ravenclaw chasers that flew around them had no hope of catching it. As they neared the hoops, the Ravenclaw keeper flew this way and that, trying to guard all his goalposts, but James and William had practiced this move far too many times.

William feigned a throw into the far left hoop and the keeper sped towards it. He realized too late that the quaffle had been given to James and had no time to get to the far right post as James hurled it through the unprotected hoop. Another point for Gryffindor!

Readying himself for another onslaught, the announcer shouted out that the Gryffindor seeker, Jourdan, had spotted the snitch. This was the last chance for James to score another point before Jourdan ended the game. Once he found the snitch, there was no way the golden ball was going to escape him.

James followed behind the Ravenclaw chaser who held the quaffle close to his body. A bludger was hit towards James and he had to stop to avoid it. The Ravenclaw looked behind his shoulder and smirked. James didn't know why he did. Ravenclaw was down by at least thirty points and Jourdan was on his merry way to assuring Gryffindor's victory, but the smirk irritated James nonetheless. Not wanting to be outdone by the Ravenclaw, he leaned in close to his broom and shot off with such speed, the resistance threatened to knock his glasses off.

In a second, James was right alongside the Ravenclaw. He blinked at James stupidly. James cut in front of the boy, forcing the chaser to stop dead in his tracks. Amelia, dove down from above and knocked the quaffle right out of the boy's arms. William, who had been circling below, caught it, and he threw it towards the Ravenclaw hoops just as Jourdan's hands clasped over the snitch. The quaffle soared threw without being caught, and Gryffindor earned another point just as Jourdan caught the snitch.

The crowd, minus the Ravenclaws and Slytherins, let out such a ferocious roar, James imagined his head was thrumming from it. He landed on the ground softly, feeling light headed. William was crying out at slapping each of his teammates across the back. James easily avoid the thunder of Williams slap by slipping off unnoticed. The crowds spilled off from the bleachers an unto the field (again, minus the Slytherins). He could spot her just as easily as he could spot the sun. It was natural for him, instinctual even, for him to seek her out, no matter how angry he was with her.

Lily ran towards Amelia, and they cheered together, clasping hands and laughing joyously. William came behind them and scooped Amelia into him in a tight hug. He watched as Lily went to Jourdan, congratulated Scott and Michael, watched as she turned this way and that, looking for him- for James. Finally, she spotted him, her eyes locking with his. Across the field, they acknowledged one another. She bowed her head and he responded in the like. She smiled, but that, James found he couldn't return it.

He turned on his heel and headed toward the changing room. William and the others wouldn't be back for awhile. This was their first victory of the year- their first of many, because they would win all of them. And the most important one was Gryffindor verses Slytherin. It would certainly be the most challenging; the Slytherin team was just as skilled as they were brutal, and Merlin were they brutal.

James smiled to himself as he slipped of his quidditch robes. The cheering of the crowds could still be heard, and James found he was strangely excited for the match against Slytherin, but that wouldn't be until the year was near over. Could he wait that long?

There came a rapping on the door, but Sirius didn't need an invite. James' best mate strolled on in, his eyes alight with mischief.

"Oh no," James sighed, struggling with his quidditch boots (why did he always laced them p so tightly?). "I know that look." Sirius' smile broadened, and he flopped down beside James.

"I haven't seen you since yesterday," Sirius said. James kept his eyes on his boots and he hooked his fingers under the laces to loosen them.

"That's what happened when a quidditch match comes up," James said.

"Yeah, but I haven't had the opportunity to tell you the news," Sirius said, reclining back into the wall. James peeked over at him.

"Hence why you're here," he said finally tugging the boot off.

"While _you_ were busy with quidditch-" and Sirius made a sour face. James threw his boot at him, but Sirius deflected it easily.

"While I was busy with Quidditch…" James said for him.

"I was busy with Moore." He waggled his brows, and James stared at him stupidly for a moment waiting for more. When he understood, he leapt up, half dressed and with one boot on, and pointed at Sirius.

"You didn't!" he exclaimed. Sirius laughed and then leaned in, smirking arrogantly. "No, no, no—No you did not!" James shouted.

"Why do you doubt me?" Sirius asked, blithely throwing the snitch up in the air and catching it.

"Because… I can't believe she did—with you!" James said, running a hand through his still sweat drenched hair. "When did you-?" James trailed purposely. Sirius quirked an eyebrow. "Oh right, right. While I was busy with Quidditch." James opened and closed his mouth several times, not knowing how to formulate the question, and he was certain he looked like a gaping fish. "How?" he finally, and poignantly, phrased.

"James, I know you're inexperienced and all, but I thought you had the fundamentals down," Sirius said, shaking his head.

"No, you prat. How did you… woo her?" he asked, feeling his cheeks go red.

"Woo? What are we—from Dumbledore's time?" Sirius asked, chuckling.

"Do you even know what time that is?" James bit back.

"In the long ago time," Sirius laughed.

"Stop changing the subject." Sirius stopped laughing and reclined back, shrugging his shoulders.

"I knew she liked me," he said coolly.

"So you… went after her?" James asked. Sirius never committed in any of his little flings with the girls, but go after a girl just because she liked him, knowing she probably would… go that far even with him just didn't sit right with James.

"No… not exactly. To be honest, and this is going to sting at my pride so keep your smugness to yourself—I think she thinks it will… up her status," Sirius said, furrowing his brows. "I'm her ladder." James looked at him flatly then burst out laughing. "I told you to not do that," Sirius sighed.

"I'm sorry-" James wheezed, waving his hand dismissively.

"You're really not, but that's fine," Sirius said, watching without amusement.

"It's just… why be with her then? Knowing that?" James asked, flopping back down unto the bench deciding he really should get dressed.

"We all can't have the beautiful relationship like you and Evans have. Such intensity," Sirius said mockingly. James screwed his face up into resentment. Sirius sighed and shrugged his shoulders again. "When it's good, it's good." James shook his head, finally freeing his other foot from the boot.

"And that's really what you came in here to tell me," James said disbelievingly. He expected a reply, a sarcastic remark, but Sirius remained silent. James looked up. Sirius was looking off to the side, his face set into concentration.

"Wha-?" James worded.

"I have to go home for Christmas," Sirius said quietly.

"Yeah… Don't we all? You'll be coming back with me, naturally," James said, stuffing his gear into the locker.

"No, mate," Sirius huffed. "I got a letter." James rolled his eyes.

"What a coincidence. I'm known to get a few of those myself," James stated flatly. Sirius smiled, but it was one of those small, pitying kinds. They never suited Sirius' handsome face, but they were known to make an appearance now and again. James did like this—didn't like Sirius being vague. He should know better—should know there was never a reason to not be straightforward.

"I'm just telling you now that I can't go home with you for the holidays. I have to go back…_there_," he spat contemptuously. James exhaled wearily.

"Why does this year matter? I thought they didn't mind me so much," James said, buttoning up his shirt.

"Well, the previous years Regulus was never being initiated," Sirius replied. James bolted upright.

"Are you joking? He's being initiated? At age fourteen? Are your parents mad?"

"Roving mad, unfortunately," Sirius smiled darkly.

"I guess that means they've… given up on you, then?" James ventured. Sirius shook his head.

"Not exactly. It's probably another one of their schemes to make me realize all the errors of my ways."

"You think they're trying to make you jealous—of Regulus?" James set back against the lockers. It may be awful of him to think it, but if Regulus was initiated into the inner ring of the Black family, then maybe they'd al leave Sirius alone. That way, Sirius wouldn't ever have to worry about them again—any of them.

"It's just… Dammit! He's fourteen!" Sirius exclaimed. James watched his friend leap up and pace the floor. "And he tries so hard to not be like me. I don't even think he wants all that… that…" bit Sirius was fumbling for the word, so James delicately offered the words:

"-dark Arts loving-Pureblood zealotry-fanaticism?" Sirius stopped and stared at James.

"Yes." James shook his head.

"I hate to say it, but I'm sure it isn't easy… being your brother," James said quietly. Sirius bit his bottom lip.

"Well, it's not easy being _their_ son," he barked back.

"I know. And you're just looking out for him," James offered. Sirius shook his head slowly.

"No, I'm not," he whispered harshly. "I'm glad they've picked him." Sirius was balling his hands up into tight fists. James got up worriedly and strode over to Sirius. He reached out a hand, realizing that Sirius was shaking slightly, but he hesitated. What could he say, really? If in Sirius' shoes—If he had been raised in that kind of family—James let his hand drop to his side limply.

"I am, too."

"Merlin! There you two are!" came a voice in the locker room doorway. James glanced over to see Peter. He didn't feel like saying hello. "Come on. Everyone's wanting to throw a party, and they can't when the one it's for isn't there!" Peter said breathlessly, face flushed, like he had been the one to volunteer to go find James and had probably run all over the entire school looking for him. Sirius pushed James back.

"How long does it take you to pamper yourself up?" Sirius asked. James was speechless for a moment, but then he realized his friend just didn't want to say anymore right then and there.

"You're the only tart around here," James quipped back, throwing over his jumper. Sirius grinned, and James returned the smile. Peter followed behind them looking back and forth between the two probably wondering what the tit and tat had been about, so James explained to him that Sirius was a renowned whore looking for credibility and meaning in life by traversing the world in search of willful virgins. Sirius smacked him against the back of his head. Truth hurt sometimes, it seemed.

* * *

The party tired James out more than he would have thought. Peter had pulled out some Dr. Filibuster's Fireworks, Sirius had brought out his secret stash of butterbeer, Remus had snuck an old radio out from nowhere, and so there was a lot of explosions blasting over a badly sung rendition of The Calypsos' recent hit 'Captured in My Siren Song' by a bunch of drunken students. James' stamina had been virtually sucked away. He crashed onto his four poster bed exhausted.

Some of the students were still up, but they were the older students, kids that James didn't know too well but were probably out for the butterbeer. It was surprisingly easy to ignore the noise and drift off to sleep. However, it was another thing entirely to ignore Moony's constant nudging.

"What?" James grumbled into his pillow.

"Lily wants you," Remus said quietly. James mumbled that he didn't care, but Moony obviously didn't hear him because he kept repeating James' name.

"I heard!" James finally shouted, raising is head up and blearily glaring at his friend. Remus stepped back looking frazzled. "Sorry…" James grunted. Damn Remus for making James feel guilty.

"Sorry, mate. It's just… she's more pushy than you are. Telling her no is like telling water to be dirt," Remus explained quietly.

"Thank Merlin we have the use of magic to rectify such obstacles," James yawned, sitting up and stretching. He had been so close to falling asleep.

"Firstly, I said _telling _it to be dirt, not _spelling_ it into something else. And Secondly—Are you mad? Hex Lily? I'll never see the light of day again," Remus explained, shuddering at the thought. James squinted at him.

"You use to be scared of me. You used to do as you were told," James said tight lipped.

"Mum's much scarier than father is," Remus smiled. "And that was never true," he added hastily. James nodded his head noncommittally.

"Did she say what she wanted?" James dared to ask. Remus shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. James nodded his head. "Alright, alright. I'm so tired…" he whined as he got up and headed to the door.

"Did you and her—Are you two fighting?" Remus asked. James stopped and turned his head to smile at his friend.

"Of course not," he replied, and then he made his way down the steps where Lily was already waiting for him. James cursed inwardly. How can he be expected to wittily respond to her when he could barely keep his eyes open? What could be so urgent that she had to request him out of bed? "You summoned me?" James asked, stopping in front of her. Lily opened her mouth to speak but looked around her. There were still a lot of older students up. If she was worried about being overheard, she shouldn't be. All of them were so drunk that they wouldn't be able to tell a pixie from a pumpkin. And why was she concerned about being heard? Merlin!

"Let's go somewhere else," she whispered at him.

"By all means. I'm sure the girls' dormitories are quiet enough," James suggested. Her mouth grew tight, but instead of replying, she just grabbed his sleeve and pulled him towards the back of the room, far away from the others. Merlin, he was tired. "If your going to lash at me, I'm too tired to comprehend it or care," James said harshly.

"I know. I'm sorry," she said softly. Well, that was unexpected. "It's just… Slughorn's party—He sent me an invitation—You knows it's tomorrow right?" she asked. James nodded his heavy head up and down very slowly, not having enough energy to reply. "Right, listen. I was wondering—Allen asked me to go with him—"

"What?" James asked deadpanned. She furrowed her brows and pulled at the hem of her sweater.

"Yeah, he asked me to attend it with him. He's awfully pushy. I've told him no a million times—"

"Good."

"—but he keeps asking anyway." James' head was reeling. Sleep was pounding at the back of his head, making his eyes hurt and his brain fuzzy, but he still had enough consciousness left in him to be jealous.

"So keep telling him no," James demanded, though to Lily it probably sounded like he was merely agreeing with her to agree with her. Not because he wanted to find Allen and hex him for even thinking of asking his Lily out to any sort of… event… thing.

"Yes because that's obviously been going over well so far," she quipped.

"Why am I here?" James asked, leaning against the wall for support.

"Because, I… I know you're mad at me—I know that—It's just… will you go… with me instead?" she asked softly. James was thinking of what a feathery pillow underneath his head would feel like when his brain could finally work out what exactly Lily had just asked of him. He snapped his head in her direction and stared at her pointedly. Upon his reaction, Lily blushed profusely.

"Okay," he said evenly as he congratulated himself on reacting so calmly though his head was spinning and his chest was heaving. She looked at him dubiously, which James didn't know why, and then she gave him a small smile.

"Alright then. Um… thanks, I guess," she said, twirling her long, red hair around her finger absentmindedly.

"It's a huge inconvenience for me, really, but I figured being a Gryffindor means being gracious. I have to earn my namesake," he smiled, his heart pounding. She giggled girlishly making James grin even more.

"I'm honored I could be of service," she laughed. "Well, I suppose I'll let you get back to your sleeping," she said, taking a few steps backwards.

"My, how fair the lady is," James smiled, bowing low. She gave a curtsey, and with a last thank you, she left for bed herself. James watched her leave, rooted to the spot because so many things had just happened, all while he was asleep… practically. But it had been better than a dream. He smiled, feeling victorious, though he didn't exactly know why. He should, by all accounts, still be quite angry with Lily, but as she disappeared from his view, he found he wasn't. Happily and clumsily, he climbed the stairs back to his dormitory and crashed atop his bed and fell into a sound sleep.

* * *

"For the love of—Wake up!"

James was sent crashing onto the floor, but being the heavy sleeper that he was, it took him a whole two minutes to wake up and another minute to comprehend how he came to be on the floor. Once comprehension set in, he blearily glared up at a peevish Sirius.

"I can curse you, you know," James groggily threatened.

"You're the one already shriveled on the floor," Sirius threw back effortlessly. James tried to wield his sluggish thoughts into a pointed repartee, but sleep had unarmed him. Sirius quirked an eyebrow, an expression James had enough to sense to know meant, 'anything you say at this point is useless since you took so damn long'."

"Well, damn you," James said anyway. He heaved himself off the floor and stared about him. It was then he noticed the horrific situation he'd just be placed in. He whipped in the direction of Sirius who looked as if he'd already expected such a reaction. "What… is that?" James spat, pointing to the window. Sirius gave a boorish stare out the window and responded with equal disinterest.

"It's the outside."

James gritted his teeth. "Yes, and what color is the outside?" he seethed.

"Pink."

"Bravo. But I suppose you forgot that pink is code for: Way too fucking early!" James shouted, throwing his hands up into the air in a fit of disbelief. Everyone else was gone, but Remus and Peter were always early risers. Not James. No way.

"No, I remembered," Sirius said blandly.

"Oh, okay. Just as long as we're clear that you're obviously barking mad," James said tiredly as he sidled up to his bed in an attempt to reclaim his stolen sleep. But as his knee hit the soft, inviting surface of his bed, he was yanked back by Sirius.

"Sorry, mate, but you've got to get up," Sirius said.

"What is wrong with you-" James began to say, but as he turned around he caught the expression on Sirius' face before it disappeared into nothing.

"Look, normally I wouldn't wake you up, but something's happened…" Sirius started hesitantly.

"What is it?" James asked, turning around to face his friend fully. Sirius paused, searching for what James thought would be the right words. He must have given up on explaining linguistically and instead brought out a crumbled piece of parchment. _Oh boy,_ James thought, taking the letter in his hand. He looked at Sirius briefly, making sure it was what Sirius wanted, before reading the contents. Within two sentences in, James already felt his blood flare up into a heated rage. A paragraph in and he wanted to burn the letter. Another two read through and he wanted to find the sender and incinerate them instead. By the end of it, James' hands were visibly shaking with the rage he felt trembling inside.

"Are they fucking full of it?" James angrily asked Sirius. Surprisingly, Sirius smiled at him softly.

"Wow," Sirius whistled, impressed. "I wasn't even that mad when I read it."

"Yeah, well, you didn't have someone build up the suspense," James retorted, throwing the disgusting letter back at Sirius. Sirius took it, looked at it as if he, too, was considering burning it, but then pocketed it.

"So…?" Sirius ventured, looking at James sheepishly. James was shaking his head back and forth.

"It's unbelievable—Inconceivable! Of all the fucking dumb things they could do!" James was spitting out rapidly. "To send you to Durmstrang? Really? Really?" Sirius trudged over to the nearest bed and plopped down on it.

"I wouldn't have woken you up, but as you read…" Sirius began.

"—they're heading over here today to talk to the Headmaster," James bravely finished for him. Sirius gave a half smirk that did nothing to relieve James of his panic. How could they do this to Sirius? To him? Break up their diabolical duo? Sirius was his best mate! Sure he liked Remus, and Peter was growing on him, but Sirius was his closest friend—his brother.

James mindlessly walked over to Sirius and sat down next to him.

"What're we going to do?" Sirius asked him. James' mind was already teeming with a myriad ideas on how to keep Sirius at Hogwarts, but most of them involved eliminating Sirius' stupid family and James' knew none of them were legal.

"Dumbledore won't let them do such a stupid thing," James said in an attempt at bravado. Sirius snorted caustically.

"I think parent beats Headmaster."

"Yeah, but Dumbledore has "the gift"," James said. It was true. The man seemed to have the uncanny (and often times annoying) way of talking someone into something. _Like admitting one's guilt,_ James thought, remembering all the times that Dumbledore had with little more than three words and a watery blue stare had somehow compelled the Marauders to fess their crimes.

"I think that only works on you," Sirius said, kicking the bed.

"Well, we could always lose you in the Forbidden Forest. Won't guarantee I'll ever find you again, but at least you won't be with _them_," James replied.

"You are useless to me this early in the morning," Sirius said morosely.

"That's not fair! Just give me a few minutes…" and he lost himself in thoughts of how to rectify this debauchery. He wasn't very good at staying on track, though, because he kept going back to thoughts of how much he hated Sirius' family.

"Thought of anything yet?" Sirius asked him. James looked over at him, feeling a pang of guilt. Nothing. He had nothing. Here was his best friend about to ship off and away and James could think of nothing! Sirius was right. He was completely useless.

"I suppose Regulus is going to?" James asked, in hopes of stalling for time.

"Why do you think they're moving me in the first place? It's so their conniving Castor can realize his true potential," Sirius darkly replied.

"But why now?"

"Why not now? The sooner the better, right?"

"Quit saying it like that," James said quietly.

"Like what?"

"Like it's final." James didn't want to be overly dramatic, but he really didn't know how he'd get on with Sirius no longer at Hogwarts. Who'd share in his mischief? Remus certainly wouldn't, and Peter could never match James' cleverness like Sirius could.

"Well, when the time comes, just through me one hell of a bon voyage party, alright?" Sirius said, slapping James across the back. Sirius gave a grin, his trademark grin, and stood to leave. James sat a moment longer.

"Hey…" James began, his mind whirling with a sudden barrage of thoughts. Sirius stopped and turned around. "What if… and bare with me here—What if we make Hogwarts more… appealing to your parents?" James put forth.

"I don't understand," Sirius replied, looking at James perplexingly.

"IT may be stupid—It probably is—But your parents admire themselves on pureblood and what not. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't Hogwarts have the longest history of teaching those pureblood families?" He was looking at Sirius animatedly, leaning forward off the bed in his excitement.

"Go on," Sirius said, still not following.

"That's just it, though! We have to really bullshit your parents into believing that Hogwarts is the place to raise charming, little, snot-face purebloods. And if Regulus is going to take over, wouldn't they want the influences of… of—What's that git's name again? Ah… Lu—Lucus…?"

"Lucius?" Sirius offered.

James snapped his fingers. "Yeah, that's the prat! Anyway, don't they want their precious heir to establish ties with a family like the Malfoys?"

"I don't know, mate. This seems awfully far-fetched," Sirius trailed.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. But can't it work for now? Or incase we can't think of anything better?" James said.

"I guess it's something, right?" Sirius offered hopefully.

"It's something."

"Something's better than nothing..." Sirius stood there, looking as if he was pondering it further. James couldn't help but think that it was their best option (besides having Dumbledore spell the Blacks into keeping Sirius at Hogwarts—which James knew he could do) because what else was James and Sirius better at than lying? There were a few things that came in close second, but at the moment, James and Sirius were masters at deception. "Anyway, I'm hungry and they'll be here soon, and I at least want something in my stomach that way when I get to the point when they really make me sick, I'll have something to throw back at them," Sirius said, heading for the door. James thought about such a scene and hopped off the bed, trotting behind Sirius.

"My, how eloquently put, my friend."

* * *

They had waited all day for the bastards to show their faces, but when had they decided to come? When James had already made plans to attend a stupid bash with Lily! Merlin, the bastards! And now, as he walked into the crowded office of Slughorn, he already felt himself distancing himself from the rest of the students attending the gala. Sirius, who was also invited, declined last minute to go, wanting instead to hang around Dumbledore's office where his parents were currently shut in. That left James to fret alone.

Lily was smiling and greeting some of the others as they arrived, but James was too preoccupied to notice anyone. He thought he managed a grunt at someone, but he couldn't be sure. Lily, in between saying hullo to someone, glared at James, most likely ashamed by his behavior.

"What's your problem?" she asked him quietly. James looked down at her.

"Nothing," he said, shrugging. Lily looked ready to snap back when she looked past James' shoulder and froze. Then she grabbed James' arm and pulled him off across the room. "Now it's my turn to ask—What's your problem?" he said as he was swept along.

"Allen just got here," Lily said agitatedly.

"Merlin, you really don't like him, do you?" James asked after the tugging had ceased.

"Of course not. He's annoying," Lily said dismissively. James turned his head and glanced over his shoulder. Allen was a tall fellow- taller than James even (and annoyingly so)- and of stout build with a crop of brown hair atop his squared face. James couldn't blame Lily for her disinterest—James got the sense that if Allen spoke, the language would be broken and guttural… Troll-ish— but she didn't have to put it so… apathetically.

"Poor bloke," James said.

"Really? The rare time you're sympathetic, and it's towards Allen?" Lily asked disbelievingly.

"Why not Allen?" James asked curiously. Lily stared at James for a moment, her green eyes unblinking, but if James was supposed to read some message in their reflection, then they were speaking another language. James remained blank. She sighed.

"I don't get you sometimes," she said, shaking her head. "Look, there's Remus," she said nodding off behind James. "I'm gonna go say hullo."

"Can't you do it from here?" James asked. Why was she all round up tight? She wasn't the one who was having a friend expatriated. James didn't even want to come to this stupid party. Nothing exciting ever happened—Not unless he or Sirius started it, anyway—and James wasn't in much of an instigating mood. She should be more grateful, really. He did come for her after all.

"No," she said evenly, "because that would be rude." James got the feeling that she was trying to accuse James somehow of being rude, but he didn't even have enough time to say anything before she had stepped around him, leaving behind only the faint smell of her shampoo. Fine. He hadn't wanted to be here anyway. Slughorn's "gatherings" were always a snob-fest anyway. Slughorn was infamous for showing favoritism towards those he thought were exceptional in some capacity, and every month he's gather those students and throw a party. James had yet to figure out why Slughorn had this particular trait, but that was generally because he couldn't be bothered to care long enough to figure it out.

Before James could leave, sadly, said bastard came strutting up to him.

"James! Glad to see ya've made it!" he cried, slapping James across the back three times. "I see you came with Miss Evans," he whispered, leaning in close and giving James a wink. _Yes you lewd reptile_, James thought as he put on a false smile. _I did come with Lily, and now I'm leaving._

"Yes, well, I wish I could stay longer, but I'm afraid I still have a few more essays to complete before curfew," James smiled. He didn't know why, but he had never particularly liked Slughorn. Maybe it was because the man was too familiar with everyone. Or maybe it was because he was Head of Slytherin. Either way, the man annoyed James.

"Oh, tish tosh! I know you've got them all squared away," Slughorn laughed, cupping James on the shoulder. "Now don't lie to this old bean—It's the gathering, isn't it?" Slughorn asked, squinting around the students congregating in his office. "Yes… not the most exciting bunch, but you and Black usually liven it up," and then as if noticing the absence of James' comrade, he looked surprised. "Where is Mr. Black?" James wanted to tell the slug that Sirius was damn sick and tired of his boorish parties, but instead James flashed another one of his disarming smiles.

"Oh, afraid he's not feeling to well. Me and a couple of others dared him to eat a whole packet of Belch Powder and… he did. Course now he's wallowing in bed, but he made a pretty galleon off of it, so I don't think he'll be complaining too much in the morning," James lied. Slughorn burst out laughing, leaning heavily on James for his hand was still on his shoulder.

"Oh, young boys will be boys," he chortled. Merlin, this was nauseating. Could no one think of a better response then that tired line? How about, "Why are you lot so stupid?" That may elicit more of a response out of him instead of the fake grin James gave his professor.

"Hopefully always, sir," he replied.

"Ho ho! Yes, yes, yes… Well, then I won't keep you," Slughorn said, and just as soon as he had finished vocalizing the phrase, he dismissed James entirely and went to chat up Irvin Ostheim, a nebbish Ravenclaw who continuously received perfect marks, but could the boy form a comprehensible, fluid sentence? No.

Not wasting another second to get out of the crowded office, James made for the door, but as he was almost at it's threshold, he turned instinctively towards Lily. He stopped. She was giggling. Not only was she giggling, but she was twirling her hair around her slender finger. And who was it that was obviously flirting with her? None other than Allen.

But as James stared on at the scene, he wondered why he wasn't more angry. Curious still was why he felt so unsurprised. _Maybe if you hadn't been such a bastard earlier, _said a voice in his mind, but James shook his head. No. That wasn't it at all. With that, he left.

He stepped outside and already felt more relaxed. He hadn't realized how tense he had been. Of course, it was completely because he still hadn't heard from Sirius. He should check up on him now—go wait alongside with him…

"How strange," a voice spoke. James stopped reflexively, years of that tone had instilled that into him. He looked up to find Snape leaning against the wall opposite of him.

"What's the matter, Snivelly? Not invited to the party?" James asked blandly. He really wasn't in the mood for this either. The Slytherin stared at him before glancing off to the side, to nowhere in particular.

"Oh no, I was," he said evenly, simply. James hated the staccato way in which the git spoke.

"I can see that. Tell me, when does lurking outside the party count as actually attending?"

"Then how about you?"

"Left on my own accord," James replied, bored by this blasé exchange.

"Of course you did. I see your side-kick is absent," Snape put snidely. "I wonder why." James felt himself tense, but he couldn't let Snivelly see that.

"I'm flattered that you obviously think of me as the leader," James said, smiling.

"Of course you are," Snape replied. Well, James hadn't been expecting that. "But tell me, will you for much longer?" He stared at James jeeringly. James knew it was a taunt, and he could never understand why Snape cornered himself like this. When had he ever won a quarrel? Won anything? Then again, Snape was saying things that were annoying James more so than usual, and he didn't like the way Snape was so pompously saying them.

"Don't worry, Snivelly. You will forever remain my disparaged subject," James said kindly. Gleefully, James noticed a spark of hatred flash within the git's black eyes. Such success always riled him more; it was why James sometimes took things too far. It was the rush of it.

"Because you force me to be," Snape said, seething, "and I have to wonder why that is."

"Please, don't flatter yourself with whatever poppycock you're envisioning in that twisted mind of yours," James said.

"No, I assure you that's a role you superimposed on me… all by your own volition," Snape bit back.

"That's exactly the crap I told you not to give validity to," James sighed.

"Then what is it?" Snape asked evenly. James faltered. What was what? In the minute seconds it took for James to work that out, Snape was smirking. "Like I said… How strange." By this point, James was no longer comprehending the babble that was spewing out of the slimy git's mouth, so he needed clarification.

"By all means, Snivelly. Enlighten me," he said, jaded.

"Did you not come here with Evans?" he asked.

"My god, man! How do you ever sleep when you're obviously stalking the poor girl all the time?"

"And you left without her," Snape added, skirting James entirely. James stared at him blandly, waiting for whatever point the Slytherin was having such a hard time conveying. "Tell me, is it any guy that talks to Evans that sends you over the edge," and Snape's eyes tapered, "or is it just when it's me?"

What?

"Oh but…"—and he looked into the room where Lily was so plainly visible, still giggling shyly beside the brutish Allen—"… looks like it's not the first choice."

"What are you saying?" James regretfully asked. Snape's hollowed, black eyes glinted with a triumph James could not decipher.

"Just wondering what threat I am to you."

And with that, he left James. Walked off while James—James!—was rooted to the ground—was left hanging on his insult, working through the onslaught of rage that ensued—was left feeling like a… a…

… fucking bastard.

"Threat?" James snorted into the quiet outside the gregarious party behind him, his blood racing throughout him in heated, powerful pulses. He chuckled to himself, but it was weak. He ran a hand through his hair and gave another snort of affected haughtiness for good measure before setting of towards Dumbledore's office.

_I assure you, Snape,_ James thought darkly as he headed up the steps that would take him to the second floor, _you are no threat to me—of no consequence even._ But as he reached the top step and walked along the corridor, he couldn't reel in his… What was it he felt? Anger? Annoyance? No…

However, as he turned the corner and as his wearied friend came into view sitting outside of the Headmaster's office, he knew what to name that feeling that reverberated so strongly underneath his calming exterior, and he didn't like it one bit.

James Potter was feeling… defeated.


	5. Unforeseen

This is a shorter chapter, but I didn't feel right trying to lengthen it out. But the subsequent ones should be up to their usual… wordiness.

Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 4: Unforeseen**

"So what's the verdict?" James voiced as he came to a halt beside his friend. Sirius acknowledged James' sudden appearance with a peripheral glance and a slight nod of the head. James smiled encouragingly, but Sirius had already looked away, cradling his head in his hands.

"There is no verdict yet," Sirius grumbled dejectedly.

"You're kidding!" James exclaimed, genuinely shocked. He thought about taking a seat next to Sirius, but when he walked over to sit, he found that his legs would not bend. So he remained standing.

Sirius gave an exasperated huff. "We're talking about my parents, James. And Dumbledore," he bit out. "For every calculated, derisive statement my parents make, there'll be Dumbledore— a man with all the time in the world and responses that are as long as you and I have been alive." James gave a small smile though his friend didn't see. He was only happy that even in a moment like this, his friend had enough good sense for the sarcasm.

"Well… how long have they been there?" James asked, thumbing over at the entrance to Dumbledore's office marked by a statue of a gargoyle.

"Dunno… How long we're you at the party?" Sirius inquired. James' body stiffened slightly as that conjured up the unfortunate encounter with Snivellus.

"Um… about an hour," James mumbled. Sirius' head shot up.

"You were only there for an hour?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"Yeah… Slughorn's parties… always such a bore," James lied.

"Well that's because I wasn't there," Sirius said. "But…" and he looked to James curiously, "—that party started at five o'clock." He looked at James as if he was mistaken. "Did you go there at five?" he asked. James sighed.

"Yeah… and I left about an hour after it started."

"Okay—but why?" James knew his friend was just seeking a distraction, but he really wished that Sirius would just concentrate on the really important matters at hand. Sirius' possible leaving was way more worrisome than…

… _than what that Slytherin scum said to you._

James ran a hand through his hair and finally sat down, feeling deflated. "I was sick of seeing Lily dancing with that prat Allen," he lied, effortlessly. Sirius gawked at him. "What?" James demanded, not understanding his friends' amused befuddlement.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm still confused. Since when does something like that stop you from doing anything with Lily? She's got loads of guys goin' after her all the time… Hell, mate! I'd go after her," Sirius grinned.

"Watch it, mate, or I'll curse you where you stand—" and James surveyed him, "—figuratively, that is."

"Wait? You'll figuratively curse me, or—"

"Just shut it," James cut in, elbowing Sirius in the ribs. Just as Sirius was going to open his mouth for retaliation, the gargoyle to Dumbledore's office came to life and leapt aside. James didn't know if it was instinct or just dammed good rigged reflexives, but the two of the them were up on their feet before the gargoyle even landed.

"Oh fuck…" James heard Sirius mutter nervously, and he couldn't deny that he felt the same way. Even though it was Sirius who would potentially leave, this whole situation still affected James, too. He studied the newly appeared opening…

And then Sirius' parents emerged.

It was always… strange—seeing them. It always seemed to James that the Blacks came from another world, and being that wizards lived in a world unto themselves, what did that make Sirius' family? Stupid thoughts like 'aliens' and 'extra-time dimensional travelers' came to mind— fantastical and wild ideas James had read about in Muggle books that when applied to the Blacks, seemed to make perfect sense. But that was fantasy.

No, the members of the Black family—and hell! Most other dark, pure-blood families—just lived like that. Separate from an already isolated world. Their customs, their manners, their beliefs—All were foreign to him, but still… James knew one thing—that he wanted none of it for Sirius.

Sirius stepped up to them, his face the very picture of composure, and James was amazed. He knew that his own expression was displaying nothing but the mistrust and hatred he held for them. He believed they deserved nothing less. But they weren't looking at him, so it didn't matter. Their smug countenances were trained on their son.

No words were spoken. No words were needed. James found that he, too, could decipher the silence, and he didn't like the answer. At all.

Sirius' fists balled up, shaking slightly at his side. He shut his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth, and James knew his friend was doing everything he could to contain the anger surging within him. Secretly, James wished his friend would unleash the ferocity, bare his fangs. James was just conceited enough to think that if a fight was initiated, he'd do anything to take the smug bastards down.

But James also knew that that was what the Blacks wanted. Sirius' anger would be a sign of weakness… Defeat. But they didn't know Sirius like James did.

Sirius held it in for a full five seconds and then released it all in one shaky breath.

After that, Sirius' father didn't even look at him, even when he past him by and almost grazed his shoulder. Sirius' mother, however, smiled darkly. _Just like a creep_, James thought.

"Send our greetings to Regulus," she said—more like demanded, actually. James felt his fingers twitched, like he was really contemplating brandishing his wand on the old bitch. But like his friend, James stayed his hand. Sirius, in response, tilted his head, his eyes never wavering from hers.

Then they were gone.

James and Sirius stayed as they were for awhile. James was thinking of all the ways he had truly wished that scene to have gone—It involved the body-binding curse and that abandoned broom closet that had a nasty way of loosing people entirely— while he was sure Sirius was running through the implications of the night's meeting.

"After Christmas break, mate." That was all Sirius said—all he could say. James tilted his head back and fixed his eyes on the ceiling, like somehow if he stared at the cracked stones above an answer would suddenly appear before his eyes that would solve everything. Like hell it did, though.

"It won't happen," James said back. His voice didn't even sound like his own. It was a whisper of thing, something thin that strung out words that no true promise could bind itself to.

"Yeah… I thought we said that earlier and… well?" Sirius looked over at him, shrugging his shoulder, smiling faintly. And James' head snapped back to its proper position, and he stared at his friend… feeling lanced through.

_Damn,_ he thought, and something in his throat burned and clamped the air out. He'd never seen Sirius look that beaten. Never seen the blue eyes so dark.

He'd never seen the trace veil of tears within them either.

_Damn._

* * *

"So it's true then?"

James looked over at Remus who was joining them for breakfast. He glanced over at Sirius who still hadn't acknowledged Remus or just truly hadn't heard him. James swallowed his lump of a biscuit.

"Yeah, Moony… It's happening," he said with difficulty, the biscuit not going down easy. Remus looked horrified as he hovered above the table, his light brown hair falling in his face as his head drooped lower and lower until he collapsed down on the bench with a thud.

"And even Dumbledore—" he began, but James was already shaking his head. Even Dumbledore could not undo this. "What now? When?" Remus was still looking to Sirius, but the dejected teen was not attentive. He hadn't even touched his breakfast yet.

"After Christmas break," James supplied, at last.

"He's going to Drumstrang," Peter added, his voice low but tinged with something James could not distinguish… or like. Remus bobbed his head up and down, but James knew that his friend still did not fully comprehend. None of them did.

Just then he heard a laugh, and his head whipped towards the source. It was reflexive. It was what he always did when he heard her laugh, and when she did— and once he had spotted her—whatever happiness that she emitted he would catch. And he would smile in turn.

But when his eyes fixed on Lily, her lovely countenance scrunched up in that adorable laugh of hers, he felt nothing but bitterness.

He couldn't blame her—he knew that—but to see her laughing so effortlessly when he himself felt so low… It embittered him. In his mind, he told himself that she just didn't know, but inside he was telling himself that she just should… instinctually. After all, he felt things for her instinctually, things that she was feeling herself and not him initially.

James looked away because he couldn't be bothered to be worked up over Lily once again when it was his friend who needed him in that moment. However, when his eyes left her face— left the familiar pale skin and flushed cheeks and deep green eyes all framed in red, they befell on another.

Snape.

Across the room, the git was doing nothing to hide his apparent… glee? James felt something vomit up deep from within. It was more than anger—more than the usual acrimony that flaked James' every opinion of the Slytherin. It was cold and deep and rushing up faster than he could squelch.

He stood abruptly, shocking poor Remus out of his grieved musing and causing Peter to drop his forkful of eggs down into his lap. Even Sirius looked up at him. He wished he could tell them that he was stepping out for a bit for some fresh air— or that he was going to the common rooms or the library or anywhere—but he hesitated for a moment, choking on his words and locked on Snape.

"James?" came Remus quietly, concernedly.

"I'm—too crowded in here—for a bit—out—See ya."

With that, he fumbled over the bench and walked out of the Dining Hall, leaving his friends just as confused as he felt. He even heard Lily shout his name, but he just ignored her as he stormed past. He didn't even know where he was going. He was just following his feet; they seemed to be the only thing functioning rationally at the moment. They led him up the marble staircase, up floors two then three where he was then diverted down the stretch of corridor. He seemed to be walking very purposefully when in truth he didn't know where the hell he was intent on getting to. But on he was directed until he stopped by the stone statue of the humpbacked witch.

James didn't even hesitate.

He tapped the witch and intoned quietly, "_Dissendium."_ He squeezed through the small opening that appeared on the witch's back and slid down. He contemplated in the darkening, twisted tunnel if he should turn back to at least fetch his cloak, but James had been in and out of Hogwarts on this path more times than he could remember. He would not get caught; the cloak was unneeded. He pressed on and was careful when opening the trapdoor that led to Honeydukes' cellar.

Expertly, he concealed himself until the opportune moment when he detached himself from his place of hiding and strode up the steps that led him to the shop's front and ultimately out on to Hogsmeade. He hesitated outside for a moment, unsure of what he planned on doing next, but once he caught sight of the Three Broomsticks he figured what better place was there for someone ditching school?

Sure he'd get the disapproving glance of Madam Rosmerta, but James had spent a whole year charming the witch to where that's all she did now. Never a word. She just accepted it because James had wanted her to. When he and his mates came down some days, she never once reported them and always served them their order.

James felt he could use something warm in his stomach just then, something to counter the bile-esque sensation he felt stirring. And as he entered and chose his seat, after Rosmerta lectured him with a glance and then took his order—after his butterbeer arrived and he was finally left alone—he still could not shake the image of Snape.

Those beetle black eyes… The sneer on his lips… The look of absolute triumph!

He took a sip of his butterbeer, and it slid down eerily. He slammed his tankard down on the table and earned the annoyed looks of the neighboring occupants. But James didn't care because as he wiped the foam off his mouth, he thought he had a name for the feeling.

And it was nothing good.

For Snivellus.

* * *

When James finally slipped out from the witch's secret passage, the corridors were dark. He eased down on to his tiptoes, looking about him cautiously. No one was really ever up on the third floor, but there was always Filch to worry about.

While he had left the Three Broomsticks and consequentially Hogsmeade while light was still out, James had taken his time when traversing back through the gnarled tunnels up back to Hogwarts. Perhaps he was stalling—he certainly didn't want to immerse himself back into the fold of gloom along with his mates—but more than that, James had just like being alone sometimes.

He knew he was being selfish. Sirius was going through something that James felt was akin to a crisis, but there were those moments when suddenly, James just had to be by himself. It wasn't like it was time wasted—James had certainly thought of a few things that could save his friend—but James had also thought of other plans. Ones that involved that slimy Slytherin. Ones that James prided himself on being able to shut the git up forever.

Or least make it so the bastard could never look at James again like he was superior.

Like he had this morning.

James meandered back towards the grand staircase. The idea was a hatchling, a fledgling of a thought. James would need more time to develop it further until it became the splendor he knew it could be. However, there were more pressing matters for James to pledge his focus to at the moment, and those were the ones that Sirius needed to be included in on from the get-go.

He looped around the end of the hall and was just making his first step upwards on the staircase when he saw someone descending ahead. He didn't turn around or dart out of sight. He didn't move at all in fact. This wasn't Filch or Peeves or any professor.

It was the one person James did not want to see.

By the other's expression, James knew they were of like mindedness.

"Please tell me you weren't haunting her again," James said, evenly enough. Snape said nothing, his banal focus merely shifted from the stair rail onto James. "You know, I've been thinking…" James began as he slowly trudged up the marble stairs, unsure of why his feet were moving at all, " …you should seriously consider partitioning for a spot as a Hogwarts ghost. Who knows? May be the only chance you'll ever get at actually being anything." James was smiling as he said all this, his earlier ire, annoyance, and confusion subsiding into the familiar.

"Clever…" Snape said back to him, his voice unflinching, low, and disinterested. James narrowed his eyes, as he stopped three steps below the landing where Severus stood.

"Paying me compliments?" –and another step upward—"I'd say I'm flattered but really—"

"— '_it's to be expected'_," Snape finished for him bored, and again James stopped. "Look, Potter, I'm really tired. How about you save your restless goading for another day?" Snape put to him flatly, and without waiting for a response, he began his way down the stairs.

James was still, he didn't even sense his own breathing, but as Snape came to pass him, his arm… without his meaning to… his hand…

He reached out and latched unto Snape's upper arm just before the Slytherin passed him completely. James didn't know what to do. He was horrified. Obviously, Snape was just as taken aback or surely he would have shoved James away—cursed him—something. But for a moment, both of them remained like that— James facing the upper level, hand gripped tight around Snape—Snape turned towards the lower landing, one leg poised to continue on down… Silent…

What a fucking long moment!

James was torn between his horror of having actually touched the slimy snake and giving in to a voice that spoke deep and low within his mind— A voice telling him that he could vent out the frustration he felt on someone who truly deserved it all—could flex his superiority… could take this further.

Something strange was happening. The bile that seemed to always churn in his gut when Snape said something James did not like was beginning to settle down, or at least, it couldn't match the ferocity of a new sensation that began to take hold. His heart was hammering, and not in that way it does after he ran for long distances— or after pulling off a complicated broom trick—or after being caught by Dumbledore when a prank went awry— or when Lily smiled at him in that particular way…

This was something new.

—something unexpected…

"Let go before my flesh rots off from your putrid touch," Snape demanded caustically. On any other day, at any other given moment, James would have replied with something like, 'if anything it'll burn off since my divinity purges all evil,' but instead… on this day, at this moment, James felt his grip loosen and his arm fall limply to his side. Surely, this, at least, elicited a response from the Slytherin.

But if it did, James couldn't see.

… didn't want to see.

Wordlessly, both boys separated, each continuing on to their intended destinations, their footsteps echoing in the abandoned, cavernous stairwell.

When James finally made it back to his room, the others were already asleep. Was is really so late? He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his jumper, unbuttoned his shirt, shifted out of his trousers, and slipped under his covers after concealing his four-poster bed behind translucent curtains. He removed his glasses, imparting them on the bedside table, and closed his eyes.

And did not sleep at all that night.

* * *

James shifted his weight from one leg to the other, blinking up into the sky.

He had considered riding this morning, if one could call it morning—it was still an inky blue out with a few tossed out stars here and there—but James hadn't gotten far past the front gate.

He merely watched as his vaporizing breath spiraled out and up. Autumn was finally concluding and winter was taking hold fast. Normally, James liked colder weather. He always said it because everything just seemed… cleaner.

But now, James was not so appreciative of winter's advent because during winter, there was Christmas, and after Christmas meant Sirius' departure from Hogwarts. Having Sirius gone meant losing a best mate. Losing a best mate meant losing James' one defender.

Because who was he kidding?

Sure people found his pranks funny, but the ones he surrounded himself with were merely clueless—generally. Sirius was the one other person who understood James' boredom, understood it and knew it well himself.

In the hours it had taken James to conclude that he was not receiving sleep any time soon, he had dedicated his restless moments to thinking of excellent pranks because thinking about those was infinitely better than thinking about a certain Slytherin. Even when James pictured the gutless snake in his mind, at the mercy of his cleverness— his prank, he at least felt an ease supersede over his current— dare he think it?— anxiety.

Because when James truly drifted into remembering last night's encounter, with his grip so tight on the Slytherin's arm… he, himself, felt his grip on normalcy loosen. So he replaced last night with fantastical scenarios instead, in which he, like a revered sovereign, ruled over the servile and weak Slytherin completely. After the pranks that he had concocted, he was certain Snape wouldn't feel anything short of defeat.

This one prank, in particular, James was especially proud of, and he was confident that, once he told Sirius, was going to make his mate equally as happy. It would take time, though. After all, the plan hinged on happening at a specific time… with the aid of a specific person, and there lied the only true difficulty.

Sirius was always more than willing to oblige James' prank, and Peter would do anything he or Sirius asked him to. But Remus wasn't always so keen on the uptakes even though James usually had a way of getting him to join in.

This one plan, however, was something that even he didn't think he could placate his friend into following…

But he had to.

This whole thing was really contingent upon Remus, after all.


	6. A Forced Set of Circumstances

This has the most James/Snape interaction to date! Yay!

**Chapter 5:** **A Forced Set of Circumstances**

"We have to do this before I leave, you know," Sirius whispered to him as they settled into their seats for Potions class. James curbed his annoyance. Ever since James had told Sirius about his brilliant plan, this had become an everyday occurrence.

"I know that, Sirius, and like I've told you (a million times), it can't happen unless he agrees to it. And besides—" James stopped short because Slughorn had just sauntered in. Usually, the teacher was much later than this.

"Alright class! Hurry up, hurry up! Take your seats!" his teacher announced, setting a stack of books down atop his desk. "We're going to be doing something slightly different today," he hummed, in highly good spirits. The class groaned collectively in response. What a professor meant by '_slightly different_' was actually '_torturous and unnecessary change that is sure to utterly annoy you younglings_.'

"Besides what?" Sirius hounded, head dipped low.

"The full moon isn't for another seventeen days. We'll have to wait anyway," James finished. Sirius huffed. Skilled as he and James were, they had yet to perfect the control of time… at all, really.

"Yeah… a day before I'm to leave for Christmas break. That's cutting it short," he said, miffed. James rolled his eyes.

"I can't magically make it a full moon whenever I want, you know, that'd just be cruel to Moony," James chided, but he was grinning slightly as he did, if only to make Sirius let up. It had it's intended effect.

"Whatever… seventeen days it is then…" he agreed, grinning, too.

"I've noticed something about my classes that I find somewhat disheartening," Slughorn announced, shuffling about his desk in a hurried manner. Sirius and James exchanged looks of slight disbelief, for what could a conniving Slytherin truly find disheartening? Weren't they coldblooded?

"For the past two months, and truly all up through these years at Hogwarts, I've been a rather complacent teacher. Subsequently, I have allowed my students to accept a rather complacent disposition. No more though, I'm afraid!" He turned to face the class sternly. "I've noticed that many of my students do not improve in their skill set. No change happens at all, in fact. Everyone is making the same grades they've earned since the first year. That is worrisome, and I have come to the conclusion that it is because none of you truly interact with anyone other than who you normally interact with."

James couldn't help but wonder where this little lecture was leading.

"So I've decided that from here on out, I'll be assigning your partners. Randomly, of course," Slughorn said, striding over behind his desk and pulling out a rather nice (and expensive looking) bowler hat. "I've put all your names in here and will pair up the partners by calling out whichever name I pick out of here," and he gave the hat a slight shake.

James wasn't too bothered by this. Even though he only really ever partnered up with Sirius, he was confident in his good luck to not be stuck with any loathsome Slytherin. He blithely glanced over at the other side of the room where the silver-and-green-clad lot were looking all hoity-toity about this new set of circumstances.

Slughorn began pulling names from the hat and announcing the pairs. James was a little pissed when Sirius was paired with Remus (seemed Sirius had better luck than him) because it meant that James was down two preferred candidates. Lily was then partnered up with a brutish Slytherin whose name James didn't know nor care to know, and then even Peter was partnered up with Lily's friend, Nora. The list of people James wanted to work with were now down to those he could tolerate, but as Slughorn read on, it was becoming abundantly clear where this was all heading.

James and Snape's names were the last to be read.

Sirius looked about ready to laugh his head off when he caught sight of James' reaction. His friend was sorely misguided, though. James was beyond irritation at this forced arrangement—beyond disappointment and disbelief. He was actually panicking. Sirius just thought James was putting on a show for his friend.

This was not the case.

"Remember your disinfecting charms, okay mate? I don't want to come back here and find you reeking of mediocrity," Sirius laughed. James forced a smile on his face. It felt tight.

"Alright! Go ahead and get into your pairs, we'll get right into our lesson!" Slughorn said, looking rather pleased with himself. James thought that this was the most idiotic scheme ever concocted. Forcing such opposing houses like Gryffindor and Slytherin into confined spaces was already moronic, but forcing them to work together? Well… that was just down right fucking stupid.

He hadn't quite forgotten that little exchange up on the marble staircase just days ago either…

"Think you can go over there?" came Sirius, trying to force down another fit of laughter. "I don't want him tainting my seat, you know." If ever James wanted to curse his friend…

"What are you talking about? I'm already making him honorary best mate—for when you leave," James said coldly. He wasn't amused, at all, by this situation, and Sirius rubbing it in his face wasn't squelching his bitterness—his anxiety. But at his comment, Sirius' face fell and then grew taut.

"Even joking, that's not funny, James," his friend bit out. James immediately felt like an insensitive bastard, but before he could apologize, Sirius had stood abruptly and left to join Remus who was sitting in the back of the class today.

"Was that a lover's spat?"

James looked up to find Snape standing beside him.

"The truly comedic thing here is that you have to ask," James said, showing no intention of moving Sirius' things to make room for the Slytherin. He would not be relinquishing the upper-hand here.

"You should placate him more," Snape continued, coldly, shoving Sirius' things off to the side before taking a hesitant seat next to James. "Because when he leaves… who will you truly have left?" Snape didn't even look at him when he said this, he was already opening his book and turning to the specified page on the blackboard. James opened his mouth to retaliate when Slughorn interrupted.

"This potion is mighty difficult. It will take a whole month to brew properly. Consequently, get used to your pairing—It won't change again until this project is complete."

"Gods," James sighed irately, dropping his face into his hands. "I thought I had such good luck, too," he mumbled. "And yet… here I am—partnered up with this… this… thing!"

"You have good luck, Potter," Snape said quietly and with something else inflected in his tone that James could not decipher. James peeked at him sourly through his fingers. Why was the git even talking to him? James was just cursing whatever gods there were in the universe. He didn't need the Slytherin butting in on his self-pity. "But my abysmal streak outdoes your serendipity."

James went rigid.

What was that? Just now? In his chest?

Wordlessly, Snape got up and went to retrieve the ingredients they would need. James found he was watching the Slytherin. If James hadn't known any better—if such events took place in the world—he would have thought that Snape had just made… a joke. The Slytherin returned and after laying out their necessary items, he looked to James.

And there it was again.

"What? You couldn't even be bothered to set up the cauldron?" Snape asked caustically. James blinked in confusion which made Snape quirk a brow. "You've done this before, right?" Snape taunted. James, catching himself, relaxed back into his chair.

"I just thought I was doing you a favor, Snivellus," –and there Snape's lip quirked into a snarl at James' most beloved nickname for the git—"Isn't this like the only way you ever feel any sort of accomplishment?" James jeered. Snape sat down.

"Potter, no need to cover your insecurities with insults," Snape quipped back evenly, rolling up his sleeves. James was surprised to find that Snape's arms weren't as spidery as he had anticipated. Pale as fucking hell, though. "I know Slughorn said this potion was difficult, but really, any dunderhead can do this if they follow the instructions. Even you." James tensed in shock. He was almost amused by Snape's banter. Almost. If it had been anyone else, James might have even conceded to defeat because the insult was so straightforward. But this was Snape. James did not want to balk to Snape.

"Oh but I'm actually getting really good at this kitchen magic," James replied. "After all… Lily's an excellent teacher," he said, dropping his voice in volume. Snape visibly tensed. James watched the reaction feeling a sense of fascination. He'd admit that this bout of insult was like going for Snape's jugular, but James rather liked seeing Snape get all worked up over Lily.

No! Not '_liked_'—just that it amused him. Snape was ridiculous to ever think that he could share in any kind of relationship with Lily, whether it was friendship or not. James just like reminding the slimy bastard of that fact and noting the resulting look of incensed defeat that would come over the other.

But something astounding happened just then. Something that actually made James Potter shut it once again in front of the Slytherin.

"She should be. She learned it all from me."

What the fuck? What was happening to James that this spineless, speck of a person could continue to get the better of him? It was intolerable. It was inexcusable.

It was worrisome.

Snape took James stunned silence as a sign of victory. The bastard smirked at him. James head was reeling and spinning too fast for him to collect his thoughts. In all his confusion, anger, and surprise, what he, instead of his usual brandished wit, got out was, "You're lying." That is not what James had wanted to say.

Or was it?

Snape smirked that conniving smirk that the Slytherins seemed so quick to employ all the time. "Why would I lie about that? We used to have regular tutoring sessions. Why do you think potion's is her favorite subject?" Snape answered, looking pleased with himself as he set to dicing the belladonna. James' heart was picking up in speed… and force.

"Tutoring sessions?" he said. Snape didn't even look at him.

"Potter, if you don't at least do something, I'm going to take full credit for this potion. And you shouldn't want that," Snape replied, pouring water into the cauldron.

"Why not? And why did you just sidestep me? It's because you're lying right? Poor Snivelly. Don't worry, I find your skewed sense of reality much more entertaining than this little fantasy of yours," James said back, feeling all the concerning sensations quieting a little.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Potter," Snape said dismissively. That did not satisfy James in the least. He leaned in close.

"She's just feeling sorry for you, you know." He leaned back and smiled at Snape, the kind of smile that was so effortless and meant nothing. Snape's brows raised for just a moment, and he was bobbing his head slightly, almost imperceptibly.

"And why does it bother you?" Snape asked, as he went to strip bark off the small bundle of oak twigs.

"Heh, please Snivellus. I have to defend the fair maiden from any beast, you know— be it troll, ghost, or… snake," James said. "But her heart is so kind that it can even confuse you for someone worth caring about."

"Potter, I mean it. Do something. Can't you multitask?" Snape cut. James smiled again. Snape was getting agitated. Then stasis was returning at last.

James set to work because like hell he was about to let Snape get all the credit. He read over the potion's passage and was amazed at how many steps there were—the damn thing spanned across three pages! He pulled out a small handful of dragon claws and began grinding them up in his mortar. When it reached the consistency he was looking for, James set it aside to start on dicing the sneezewort.

He was actually working pretty diligently, and he wondered if it was because he wasn't paired up with the usually bored Sirius. Not that James would admit that to Slughorn or anything. It was just a thought.

Confident the plant was diced small enough, he went to dump it into the cauldron before one pale arm blocked his movement.

"I wouldn't just yet," Snape said, not looking at him, but trying to pound the stripped oak twigs with one hand.

"Oh come on, Snape. It's right here in the book that after the belladonna, you add the sneezewort," James explained exasperatedly.

"I've made this before. It's much better if you wait until after the oak is added. I'm almost done," Snape replied back, in earnest. James, because he'd never be spoken to by the Slytherin so casually, put the bowl of sneezewort back down. Was Snape so into this that he couldn't even muster up his usual venom? James eyed him suspiciously.

"Don't give me that look, Potter," Snape spat. Ah, there it was. "I wouldn't sabotage my own project. Not even for you." James watched as he pulverized the last bit of oak and then dumped it into the cauldron. The liquid gave a small puff before turning a deep green.

"Now?" James asked.

"Yeah… then stir it three times counter-clockwise," Snape said, getting distracted again.

"Why? The book says to do it four times clockwise," James asked, but he did it the way Snape said anyway.

"Books can be outdated, Potter. Stirring it three times doesn't over mix the ingredients so that their potency is kept a little longer. And it's better counter-clockwise because that's the natural magical pull for the oak."

"How can you tell?" James asked, peering into the cauldron like it was going to answer him. Snape held up a remaining small twig of the oak.

"If you look closely enough, you can see how the bark forms around the tissue of a tree," Snape explained. James leaned in close to look at the branch. "And depending on that, you'd know it's magical pull."

"Magical pull, huh?" James said skeptically, getting closer to the branch as if he'd be able to see such magic.

"Almost everything has a magical pull…"

"I don't get it. It's just looks like vertical scales," James said. He straightened when Snape pulled back his hand quickly.

"It's the thickness of the fissures that matter, but that varies from tree to tree," Snape said, returning back to his ingredients.

"How could you have possible figured that out?" James asked. Truly, though he'd never say it—not to Snape and not to himself—James was impressed. It was a smidgen of a realization, one that James could deftly fling away.

"Trial and error…"

"Did you teach Lily all this, too?" James asked before he could stop himself. Snape actually almost dropped the bowl along with the lacewings into the cauldron.

"That's a bit much for anyone," Snape answered, simply.

"But you retain it all, right?" What the fuck was he doing? Why was he vomiting up this crap? He furiously set to cutting up his rat spleen.

"I guess…" Snape said slowly, as if he was walking into some sort of trap. If anything, the trap was being laid for James.

James decided he'd just better spell his mouth shut. He didn't, but the thought made him shut it for a bit anyway. They continued to work in silence again, unlike much of the rest of the class. James noted that the pairings consisting of a Gryffindor and Slytherin were not making much progress. Already two people had to be sent to the hospital wing when one potion suddenly erupted purple fire and burned off half the hair on one Slytherin boy's head while it burned the tips of his Gryffindor partner's fingers. James wondered at the fact that his and Snape's potion was coming along at all.

"Excellent work, my boys!" Slughorn said, beaming down into their cauldron.

"Thank you, sir," Snape mumbled, and James was stunned to see a slight tinge creep across the Slytherin's face. Was Snape…?

"Of course, I'd expect nothing less from you two. This is likely going to turn out to be the best in the class, if I may be so presumptuous!" Slughorn chuckled, clapping Snape on the back of the shoulder, almost causing the smaller boy to drop his ingredients. Then he was off to inspect the other potions. Snape was fidgeting slightly, as if… embarrassed?

He'd never seen such a reaction from the Slytherin. And he had noticed that while making this potion— while James had flipped back and forth between pages, had stopped countless times to read, had double checked with the extra information on the black board, had Snape stop him a few more times to do things differently—Not during all that time had Snape looked away from his work, nor had he paused in his movements. There was such fluidity to him…

James felt that sensation in him quiver, and he found he couldn't stop himself once again.

"You don't even look at your book," he rushed out suddenly, startling Snape. "You have all these potions memorized?" he asked, a bit too intently for his liking. Someone kill James where he stood, now. Snape was actually coiling away from James and eyeing his book as if it were about to betray him again… like the last time James got his hands on it. Why else would James mention it just then, right?

James' knife was being awfully loud as he slammed it down on the cutting board over and over again. His heart was pounding just as loudly…

"Only the ones I've done before," Snape said, straightening, as if bracing himself for whatever James was planning. But James wasn't planning anything! Why was he asking about this shit? Why was he even talking to his most hated enemy like this? Why the fuck should he care? Snape, the paranoid twat that he was, was thinking the same thing.

"Why are you asking me all this, Potter." James, trying to convey nothing but boredom, shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm killing time. Shouldn't you be appreciative or something," James said, scrapping the diced spleen off the cutting board and plopping the bloodied bits into the darkening liquid.

"Whatever you're planning, you should just stop now," Snape said tersely, his black eyes boring into James.

James swallowed hard.

"Class is almost over, Snivelly. I don't have much time for anything," James said back, turning away from the blackness of Snape's eyes. "Besides, if I mess with you now, then I'd ruin my chances for a good mark. Think what you will of me, but I do pride myself on having top marks," James explained, trying to steady his breathing. Why was Snape still staring at him? "Plus, I've angered my one only other accomplice, so…"

"Because that's something that stops you?" Snape asked bitterly. James smiled at him, feeling that sensation uncurl further inside his belly.

"He does understand my brand of humor, that one," James said, through his teeth. Snape's jaw tightened, and he dumped his own ingredients into the cauldron. The potion bubbled forcefully for four seconds and abruptly turned a sickening yellow.

"Don't worry, Potter. You're much more conniving than you give yourself credit for." James turned to Snape, but the Slytherin had already gathered their ingredients and was returning them back to the cupboards. Deciding to ignore Snape's comment, James levitated the cauldron over to the side room where everyone else was placing theirs. He wondered, before returning to his table, if he and Snape—Well if everyone had to make frequent trips back to this class to watch out for their potion. He asked Snape this. Snape looked at him like he was an idiot. He was certainly feeling like an idiot today.

"Slughorn's going to put a freezing charm on them," Snape said slowly, as he gathered his things. James made an 'ah! I see!' expression before Snape, after one last confused and wary glance, stalked away. James tidied up his own things and then stuffed them into his bag being careful not to watch as Snape left.

"Seriously, mate, what was all that about?" came Remus suddenly as he stopped behind him. James looked over at his shoulder; he saw Sirius leave without him.

"What do you mean?" James asked distantly.

"I mean, during the whole class you were… talking to him." Remus put cautiously.

"I wasn't talking to him. I was bating him," James lied, as he straightened.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why? It's what we do."

"Sure, but… why?" Remus asked as he trailed behind James.

"Moony, cut the crap. You know why…" and James sped off hotly, but not before he heard Remus mumble, "but I don't know why." James seethed. What? Had Remus been watching him or something? And why didn't Sirius wait up for him? Was he really so peeved about James' underhanded comment that he had just left without saying anything? Sirius should know that James wouldn't actually replace him with… with…

"James, wait up!" someone called behind him as one thin arm wrapped around his own and pulled him back.

"What, Evans?" James demanded. Lily's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she shook it off quickly.

"I was just wondering how class was for you today?" she asked, smiling slightly.

"I don't get it… It was fine—as far as Slughorn's classes are concerned," James replied, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. He needed to get to next class. Lily wasn't going to make him late for another class again, so he could just get detention… again, just so he'd accidentally meet that Slytherin again…

"James? James!"

"What?" James asked. Lily was looking at him weird. Why though?

"It's nothing… forget it," she said, stepping around him. She was about to leave when a trail of her hair brushed against his hand still on his strap. So… he reacted.

"Wait!" and he grabbed her arm, much like she had his just a second ago. "What did you want to ask me?"

"James… we should get to class…" she said softly. Was he crazy or was she… blushing?

"No! Ask me what you were going to ask me!" His chest was heaving. Was he really breathing so hard? She looked down at the floor, and James felt her tensing under his touch.

"It's no big deal… I was just wondering if later—Because you and your mates do it all the time—So you may not want to—but I thought that maybe—"

"Come on, Lily—Ask me."

"Take me to Hogsmeade later?" she rushed out. Her face… it was so red… "I just thought we could sneak out later—go to the Three Broomsticks," and her voice quieted—James almost had a hard time hearing her, his heart was beating so loud. "Just us."

… '_just us…_'

"Yes! I mean… yeah—Sure," he beamed. She looked at him tentatively, like he was about to say that he was kidding, but James was smiling to much to form any words at the moment.

"Brilliant! Alright then… See you later, James!" and with a slight twirl, she headed to class, but not before she turned around one more time, and smiled so sweetly at him. He waved at her like an idiot.

Excellent! So he had a date—With Lily! James sauntered down the hall, not caring to rush to class. If he got detention for this, then… Well, it'd be bloody worth it for a date with Lily.

* * *

"Come on, Padfoot! You can't still be mad at me?"

James was standing at the end of Sirius' four-poster bed, trying his hardest to get the attention of the bed's occupant. Sirius eyed him like he was poison.

"Sirius?"

"Why were you talking with Snivellus during class?" Sirius asked sharply. James reeled.

"Not you, too…" he mumbled, rubbing at his temple tiredly. Sirius glared at him.

"You know, mate, you've been acting all weird lately," Sirius accused, straightening his bed. Probably to better glare at James.

"Me? You're the one that's been in a right state—"

"With good reason!"

"I'm not acting any different than I normally do!" James said, hotly. When in truth, he felt there was validity to Sirius' claim. He had been feeling out of sorts lately…

"Yeah, you are!"

"How so?"

"Like today for instance!"

"Not making his book talk dirty does not mean I've been off!"

"But talking to him like he's one of your house mates does!"

"Uh, guys? You're kind of loud…" Remus called, peering over his book. James turned to glare at him at which he quickly dove behind his book again. James and Sirius had these rumbles from time to time, and though Remus was one of his mates, too, he didn't need to always get in the middle of it. In the moments of quiet where James was trying to remember what he was going to yell at Sirius, he felt some of his irritation wane slightly.

"Look… I promised I'd meet with Lily, so—"

"What?" Sirius almost leapt out of his bed, but he had somehow managed to wrap himself partially in his covers and so stumbled to a crawl over his bed instead.

"What do you mean what? I said I'm going—"

"No, I heard you," Sirius interjected. James looked around the room like he'd just missed something.

"Am I not supposed to go on a date with Lily or something?" James snorted, looking at Sirius like he was crazy. James expected a retort, but what he got instead was one final hard stare before Sirius freed his leg from the covers roughly and stormed out of the room, slamming the door on his way out. James stared after him disbelievingly.

"Can you believe that prat?" James exclaimed, gesturing to the door. Remus cautioned a peek over his studies. "What's gotten into him?" Remus smiled tensely.

"You know what's gotten into him," he said softly. James opened his mouth to argue, but closed it back slowly.

"Whatever… I'm gonna go meet up with Lily," and he swiped his jumper off his bed. "See ya." He walked the steps from the dorm down to the common room. Sirius was nowhere to be seen, and that was just fine with him. The jerk could go sulk in Moaning Myrtle's loo for all he cared. He stopped by the portrait hole where Lily, already waiting for him, smiled at him warmly.

And he wondered why his heart did not skip.

* * *

"You seem kind of distracted," Lily said after sipping some of her warm butterbeer. James, whose head was resting on one upturned hand, glanced at her briefly.

"It's not a big deal, but Sirius is mad at me for something," James sighed. Lily nodded her head as if she understood.

"I heard about… his situation," she said delicately. James closed his eyes; they felt kind of weary. "You have to understand how he feels," she said softly. James looked at her, hard.

"Of course I do! Why wouldn't I? Sirius is like my brother! Him leaving affects me, too, ya know!" James said defensively. Lily leaned back.

"I know that—"  
"Then why'd you say that just now?" James interrupted. Lily looked downward and into her foaming beverage, then at her clasped hands before her, then to the couple that were cozying up to one another next to them.

"It's not like you're always the most… sensitive person," she whispered, as if she didn't want to be heard, but James had heard her. He snorted derisively. What a riot.

"Sure I am. After all," and he smiled at her. By her reaction, it was nothing short of cruel. "—I heard about you're and Allen's little… tryst. And have you seen me reacting badly?" Lily looked horrified and ashamed. She should be. "So that whole party thing—You not wanting to be around him because he was annoying—You were just done with him right?" Lily's hands were shaking, and James smiled sweetly.

"Don't worry, Lily. That's a trait of yours I've understood for awhile now."

"What do you mean?" she asked not looking at him. He propped his chin on his hand and studied her. He wished he could see her eyes. How was he supposed to know if this regret was genuine or not?

"When did you meet Snape?" he asked her simply. Her head shot up, and she looked at him confusedly.

"What?" she asked, thinking she must have heard James wrong. Why would he be asking about the person he single handedly hated most in the world?

"You and Snape were friends before you got to this school, right? When'd you meet him?" he asked, eyes half lidded as if already bored, but he wasn't. James was being very attentive. She ran a finger over the handle of her glass tankard, stalling. James could see her working through whatever emotions were going through her mind right then and there. Was she figuring out how to best appease him in this moment? Was she trying to find the right words that describe her relationship with the Slytherin that wouldn't call forth the jealousy that it normally did? Because James knew that she knew he was very often jealous.

"I don't understand why you want to know this. Did he say something to you during Potions?" she asked, and as she did, she already looked accosted, as if already blaming her afore friend. James felt that feeling again stirring deep below inside him.

"You know that he'd never say anything bad about you, Lily, but by your reaction, I'm beginning to think that you have done something regrettable," he smiled at her. Her mouth fell open a little, as if wishing the right words would come forth on their own volition, and James wondered why this was so hard for her.

"I met him when I was little. He lived in the same neighborhood as me—he… sensed that there was something similar about him and me," she began, her voice a slight tremble.

"He was the first person to tell you that you had the gift of magic," James surmised, and he was only glad that he sounded as indifferent as he did though his heart was thrumming— with what, he did not know. Lily looked up at him and nodded.

"Yes, and after that, he always came by. It was… nice—knowing—having someone else that could do the same fantastical things that you could. My sister, she didn't understand. I think she was jealous that I could magic and not her—" Lily glanced up at James who was rolling his hand lazily, the gesture telling her to move along past this part. It wasn't interesting him. She narrowed her eyes while her mouth grew taut, but she didn't say anything to this. "Anyway, I don't know what else you're looking for. We were friends, we came to Hogwarts, and now we're not such good friends—"

"But you are still friends?" James asked, peering over at her through his spectacles.

"I don't know what you could call it…" she answered with a sigh.

"Not good enough, Lils. I want to know," he pressed.

"Why though? You don't even like him! In fact, you hate him!" Lily exclaimed heatedly and rather loudly, drawing the attention of the few people that encased their table.

"But you didn't always. What changed?" he continued, ignoring her slight tremble of anger. She bit her bottom lip in contemplation. Why was she having to fish around for an answer. Shouldn't her response be, _'You know why. Because he's a creepy, dark-arts loving Slytherin.'_ ? That should have been her answer, but instead, he got:

"Because we're just too different," she admitted softly, and something flashed over her features. Something that softened them for just a moment—something that James could not identify properly.

"But… you still… care about him?" James ventured, hoping it was a shot in the dark that missed the target completely. But she smiled, and this James understood to be wistfulness.

"Sure… like you would anyone that you first cared about outside of your family," she said, and James felt that feeling in him curling in on itself, as if wanting to shrink away from such admittances.

"Cared about? Lily… did… were you… You're not still in l—" but James couldn't finish the sentence, the question, that hammered in his head and gut. He noticed he was standing slightly. Lily watched him curiously.

"I don't understand…" she said, those little brows of hers coming close together in scrutiny. "This? This is what's bothering you?" she seethed out, and James was stunned by her tone. He'd never heard it like this before. "You find out about me and Allen—which by the way! Nothing really happened—and your reaction is calm, but you're going to get all worked up over Snape? When him and me haven't even talked since second year-!"

"Don't lie to me! I know you've been hanging out with him!" James shouted.

"Did he tell you that?" she demanded, her tiny shoulders raising up in her tenseness.

"I saw you two! Three weeks ago!"

"That-That wasn't anything!" she said, standing now, too. By now, their confrontation had garnered the attention of all the bars attendants.

"I never said it was truly something—just that you're obviously lying about seeing him. And why's that? Are you ashamed of your little spook?" James asked sweetly. Lily closed her eyes tight, turning her head to the side. James had never seen Lily so worked up before. And for what? Snape?

And it twisted inside him.

"I. Am. Not!" she spat slowly, forcefully. "But every time—every time I hang around him, you—Your mates—You all—Just won't leave him alone…" she trailed weakly. James straightened.

"You think I mess with him because of you?" James asked, leaning forward, resting his hands on the table.

"Don't you?" she asked, and this time, it was she who smiled sweetly at him. Again James straightened and studied her thoughtfully. It was true that James never liked seeing Lily around Snape—she was his and Snape couldn't take her from him.

…like James had from Snape.

And it churned within him.

"Fine! Don't answer!" she fumed as she dug roughly into her pockets. "And what the hell's been wrong with you lately anyway?" she hissed as she slammed the money to cover her tab on the table. "You've been a right git these last weeks, you know. Oh! And thanks for such a lovely evening, Potter!" And with that, she charged out of the Three Broomsticks leaving James to stand there while everyone's disapproving glances were boring into him. He snorted for effect and put forth his own share of the tab before nodding to the barkeep Rosmerta and then the customers. He walked out nonchalantly because James would not show that he was anything less than _unaffected_.

When in truth…

He hadn't even said the things that he had really wanted to say to her, but then again, like James would ever admit the things he was experiencing just then. Lily had been friends with Snape—for years!—and then all of a sudden he's just not who she was expecting? James found that hard to believe—that Snape was anyone other than who he showed himself to be.

Unlike James…

And Lily saw what in Snape all of sudden that wasn't there before? If she did that to Snape, wouldn't she eventually just… do the same to James? James shook his head as if physically willing such thoughts to disperse.

He trudged out past the outer bounds of Hogsmeade. He ducked down and walked through a gap in the exterior fence and slowly made his way up to a ramshackle thing of a house just a little ways down. It's where he and his mates often hid out at when Moony was in one of his moods or when they just didn't feel like bothering with school.

And James certainly had no desire to see anyone right now.

Because he knew there was no one in this moment that wanted to see him.

* * *

James stayed there in the house (recently dubbed the Shrieking Shack), laying down on a beaten mattress left there from so long ago that it was sunken in and torn in places— but what did he care?—until he sensed that it had long since passed nine thirty. He closed his eyes for one last moment to himself and hoped that once he made it back to Hogwarts, everyone would be asleep.

He didn't want to bother with Peter's naivety—certainly not Remus' expectant chiding—And least of all Sirius' anger towards him.

How did things get so fucked up anyway? Him and Sirius were supposed to be kicking it up like fools… before he left. They were supposed to be enacting on their dumbest pranks and their most childish antics. He and Sirius had planned on spending at least one night in the Forbidden Forest to prove who was manlier (not that James would lose, of course), and they were supposed to bribe the House elves to serve all the students bugs and worms and shit (and he'd admit—that one was a bit far-fetched). But now…? With only weeks left until Christmas break?

And hadn't he'd made a mess of things with Lily? James wondered why he could be so cruel to her, and then he remembered how truly spiteful she could get. It was different from James' acts of insensitivity in that hers were usually in reaction to his, but still! That she would dismiss Allen so willfully—that she would abandon her first friend…

…when that friend still held her in the highest regards…

James opened one eye blearily and stared out a dusty window that had been boarded up except for a strip across the middle. It was certainly dark outside. He heaved himself off the quicksand-like mattress and stretched. He stood and scratched his bits indecently before deciding he should really start heading back.

James could never fully display his appreciation towards the castle Hogwarts. It was his sanctum—his source of irritation—and his route to momentary releases of freedom, and the Shrieking Shack was just that.

But James couldn't stay here forever (not that he'd want to), so he made his arduous way back to Hogwarts through the secret door, down the earthen tunnels, up and out under the spelled unmoving Whomping Willow, across the green lawns, past the front gates of the castle, across the entrance hall, and then…

—he diverted towards the Dining Hall.

Something told him to—that if he'd wait just a bit longer…

He didn't know what for, but he obeyed his instincts. He chose his usual seat at the Gryffindor table and faced the outer hall. He had a really good view of the entrance chamber. He laid his elbows on the table and leaned back against the edge of the table, wishing the Hufflepuff table was just a bit closer so he could prop his feet up on something. He felt he may be waiting awhile.

Sure enough, James sensed many a minutes tick by until he was certain that enough time had passed that he was officially being ridiculous. So he stood. Then he walked to the entrance of the Dining Hall, then across the foyer, and then to the edge of the Marble Staircase.

And then he stopped and turned around.

And there, emerging from his lair like a nocturnal vermin, was Severus Snape.

And James heart sped and his blood pumped and his hand twitch and the feeling surged…

…and he smiled.

_How perfect_, he thought.

A/N: Hmm... Wonder how the next scene will play out…


	7. The Uprise

A/N: I just want to say thank you to everyone who's reviewed! It really inspires me further to write. Some of them really made me pause with happiness (and a little bit of relief that people like it). Thank you very much once again!

Also! It's all Snape and James here, from start to finish! What!

**Chapter 6: The Uprise**

"You're becoming quite the predictable creature, Snivellus," James announced, a bit breathlessly. Snape turned his head slightly, regarding him minimally, before he leaned against the wall.

"I'm I to take that to mean that you were somehow…. waiting for me, Potter?" he asked, looking much too unconcerned for James' liking. James felt his lips quirk upward in response.

"It certainly makes you an… easier target," he replied calmly though his fingers twitched reflexively. Snape must have seen this movement and narrowed his eyes in warning.

"You know, I should blame myself for this," Snape said suddenly, detaching himself from the wall like a shadow moving along with its keeper. "I've certainly allowed you and your mates to get the better of me—I suppose I've just always underestimated you and your… cruelty?" and his voiced trailed questioningly as he took a step forward. "No, that's not it…" he then said. "Ambition?" —another step taken—"I think even you know that's still not quite right..." he smirked as he took yet another step closer. "Oh wait, I know the right word—" and then he was only three paces away from James, and James, even though he kept his demeanor calm, was truly feeling riled.

"It's your utter repudiation that I miscalculate continuously," he said with such finality that in that instance, James felt the declaration to be true. But he was James, and as such, he was quite capable of laughing off such a remark, even if he felt as though his diaphragm was being crushed under the insufferable force of his heartbeat. He would brush this off.

He rolled his eyes and snorted. "Not this again, eh, Snivelly?" and then his wand was in his hand. He tapped it to his temple. "You think I'm playing a game here, but I assure you this is about nothing more than my hatred of you," and then he smiled kindly. "Well that and my _utter boredom_ with everything." And then it was Snape's turn to laugh it off, like him and James had just had some kind of inside joke. Only thing was that James did not feel like he was in the loop.

"I really shouldn't deny this outlet for you," Snape laughed, and it sounded cruel. James noted that the Slytherin's wand was in hand as well, held loosely between his fingers. When did he-?

"What are you on about?" James asked, flicking his gaze from the wand to the Slytherin's cunning expression.

"Just that every time you feel the need to act on these ridiculous impulses of yours, the more it makes her come to me…" he smiled.

All along it had only ever been a whisper, a creeping sensation that wormed around in his gut, but it had grown stronger with every step Snape had taken towards him. Still, it had been repressible. But now—When Snape looked at him in that way—When he spoke those last words—And James felt them to be true—And Snape knew James could deny nothing—And the words mingled with the sensation until it was just parasitic enough for James to feel sick—And…

…Well, like most parasites, this one broke free from its host and unleashed its dormant fury.

"_Locomotor Mortis_!" James intoned, hurling the jinx towards Snape, but the Slytherin had been practicing it seemed and sidestepped the curse entirely.

"I'd throw your own words at you about becoming the predictable creature, but that's probably a bit too cliché, right?" Snape smirked. And James found he could smile in response because this was very interesting, and his blood was pumping. Was this excitement? He didn't know; he just knew that he needed to act.

"_Impedimenta!_" he spelled, but again, Snape countered him.

"_Protego!_" Snape said.

"_Stupefy!" _and again, his curse was dispelled by Snape's shield charm. So he threw another hex, and then another jinx, his wand guided by body memory and each one a reflex of his tongue. He shouted the Arm-Lock curse, then the Silencing charm, and when those, too, were deflected he tried the Stinging hex and the Jelly-leg jinx.

They circled around each other, and Snape fired off a Briar-Bind curse. James barely had enough time to duck behind one of the armor guards before the spell collided with the suit's shield and made it sprout thorny vines. James had to hand it to the Slytherin; this was more than he had anticipated. He took a moment to catch his breath; he had never had to expel this much energy and magic before.

"Not very Gryffindor of you, Potter— ducking and hiding like a coward," Snape called out snidely. "Then again… I never believed you truly belonged in that house." James rolled his eyes as he stepped out from behind the suited guard.

"Have I told you how sick I am of hearing that?" James replied, raising his wand. "Expelliarmus." But Snape dodged it.

"Just admit I'm right and maybe I'll stop mentioning it," he bit back. "Silencio!" James called forth his own shield charm, and he watched as Snape's spell disbanded across the unseen barrier.

"O_ccaeco!"_ he shouted as he flicked his wand upward. This he knew hit Snape when the Slytherin stumbled into the wall and groped around for stability. "Ha! That's more like it!" James taunted. Snape intoned a curse, but being blinded, he missed his target completely. "Come now, Snivelly. I think a great, grimy bat like yourself can at least sense me out!" James laughed, getting nearer. Again, Snape made his attempt, and again James was able to avoid by simply stepping to the side.

He drew closer, watching as Snape struggled to discern his location. The Slytherin had one hand braced against the wall, while his other brandished his wand like swift rapier. His eyes were shut tight, as if he believed that if he just blinked hard enough, the curse seeping him in darkness would be alleviated away. Too bad for Snape, though. Apparently he didn't know the very elusive counter-curse. Come to think of it, did James even know it?

"Take it off, Potter!" Snape spat. "Isn't this a little too spineless— even for you?" he baited, but James wasn't buying it. He knew Snape was trying to detect his whereabouts, so he kept his mouth shut. Snape tilted his head, as if straining to hear James' movements. James stilled.

He should be taking this moment to end this little duel—prove once and again how much better he was by comparison—but each time he tried to raise his wand in offense, no spells came to mind. Instead, he wondered at how this battle had almost been a stale-mate or worse yet, a bitter defeat on James' end. Things like, '_when did Snape get this good?' _and '_how could I have not noticed this?'_ raced within his mind. But even as he contemplated all this in the quiet, James knew the answer.

_'Maybe he was always this good.'_

"Why haven't you attacked yet?" Snape asked suddenly, and James' straightened. He hadn't realized he'd been less than attentive. Something flashed over Snape's face during the silence—his jaw tightened and his brows furrowed upward while his wand hand lowered somewhat. James marveled at the display of unease.

Snape didn't think he was there anymore.

But James couldn't move away.

In fact, it was quite the opposite. James crept forward, his wand lowering until it was just another relaxed extension of his body. Snape rubbed at his eyes, and recited spell after spell, each one ineffectual. James racked his brain for the counter-curse, but first he had to remember where he'd heard the curse from to begin with.

He then thought he remembered the first (and only) time he had ever gone to visit Sirius at his house. The Blacks, guarded and covert in almost all their affairs, had taken away James' sight... so he wouldn't know the way there and consequently could lead no other wizard back. What was it they said once he had arrived at the house?

Oh wait!

James lifted his wand, fully intent on returning Snape's sight—his reasons for doing so inconsequential to him—and inhaled quickly to form the first syllable of the remembered counter, when Snape reared his head and shot off a curse. James didn't recognize it—

"_Sectumsempra!_" the Slytherin shouted.

—but he certainly knew its effects well enough.

The greenish light shot through the distance and slashed across his cheek; he heard the flesh rip before he felt the sting.

And it was merely automatic after that—his body's obligatory response to such a willful attack. He lunged forward and slammed Snape up against the wall.

"Come now! Don't you think that was a tad bit vicious? Even for _you_?" James seethed. He felt the wound stretch and the first drops of blood trickling down. Snape hissed out something, too muffled for James to hear properly, but he certainly felt the other's wand being raised. He leveled his own against the Slytherin, ready to disarm him when Snape beat him to it.

"_Expelliarmus!"_ Snape snarled, and James' wand went soaring behind him. He watched as his wand clattered unto the stone floor, and then he whipped his head back around. Snape was beginning to mouth another spell, but James, enraged and unsettled, snatched the other boy's wrist and pinned it back behind him. Snape's fingers collided into the wall, and his wand was knocked from his grasp.

"We should at least even the odds, right?" James smiled, clutching down on Snape's shoulder with his other hand.

"You're so stupid, Potter," Snape declared, his lips upturned in one of the cruelest smirks James has ever seen. James leaned forward because at this juncture...

...everything he did was at the mercy of some gentle impulsion.

"What's that, Snape?" James asked, close to his ear.

"You heard me," Snape spat, his black eyes focused just above James' forehead.

James gripped Snape's shoulder harder—that's what the impulsion told him to do—And he leaned in closer, his leg brushing up against Snape's... because that was what he was told to do...

"I've already won this, Potter."

James hovered against him, and tentatively, he moved his hand up slowly and touched his fingers to the other's neck. Snape went rigid beneath his touch. Encouraged, James just as cautiously wrapped his fingers around the Slytherin's throat like he meant to asphyxiate the other, but really…

Underneath James' fingertips, Snape's skin pulsated erratically.

"What are you doing?" he heard Snape gasp. In disgust? In anger?

In surprise?

James shifted closer, his fingers pushing deeper into Snape's skin, his other hand gripping the Slytherin's wrist tighter. What was he doing? His eyes felt weary, and a buzzing sensation reverberated in the back of his skull, creeping its way forward back behind his lids. He shook his head but found he could not shake the listlessness that was settling in.

What was he doing?

"I must be…"—And just as he mustered enough cohesiveness to respond to the Slytherin, everything grew dark.

"…hallucinating…"

And then he could no longer feel the other's pulse within his grasp.

* * *

He awoke to daylight.

Opening one of his eyes blearily, James groped around for his glasses and found them on a table beside him. He slipped them on, and once his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw that he was resting in the Hospital wing. But how did he…?

He remembered cornering Snape and then hexing him. Was he cursed in return? He touched the side of his face and felt the course fabric of a bandage. James wondered if the cut would leave a scar. Snape had certainly wounded him deeply…

He looked around the room, and none of the other beds were being occupied. He dropped his head back unto the pillow when he caught sight of a figure off in a corner of the room. James bolted upright and stared at the figure as if he were still dreaming. He must be. There was no way that—

"Snape…? Wha—?" but James faltered. Snape looked at him blankly before he unfolded his arms and walked over to him.

"A pity… it seems you're still functioning," he said callously, and James tried his damnest to ignore the surprise that surged in his chest. He continued to stare at the Slytherin as if the boy were the ghost of Christmas yet to come. Snape broke their eye contact and headed for the door.

"You… you brought me here?"

He wasn't really saying it to Snape, merely James was voicing something that was so absurd, it's only outlet was to leak unwillingly from his mouth. He didn't believe it anyway. There was no way such a thing was possible.

But then… Snape stopped.

No…

"You brought me here," and this time, it wasn't a question. James felt his bed sheets bunch within his grasps, felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end—heard the uprise in his chest. Snape whirled around.

"I was hoping that if I brought you here, you'd owe me a life debt," he seethed. "I was hoping you were dying." James stared at him, in disbelief, in irritation, in awe, in humor…

He laughed.

"You brought me here!" he grinned, shielding his face with a hand as if unwilling to display his amusement. Snape glared, and his lip curled.

"I had to, Potter. I wanted to leave you there—Who knows? It may have even taught you some sort of lesson—But you were shriveled up on yourself, whimpering and crying all over the floor," Snape said snidely. "The Professors were sure to find you, and if they did—you would have exposed me as well." He crossed his arms across his chest. "I had no choice."

James looked at him again, and then he did allow himself to collapse back against his pillow.

"You really carried me here," James breathed out in wonder.

"No, you idiot!" Snape spat. "I levitated you here! To think I even did that much…" he admitted, glancing off to the side in apparent disgust.

"Why?"

"Why what, Potter?" James glanced over at him.

"Why are you still here?" he asked cautiously, ignoring the sensation that pattered along his lower belly. Snape didn't say anything—didn't even blink. He unfurled his arms, walked forward, stopped beside James' bedside…

…and smiled cruelly.

"To tell you, Potter, that while you laid sick in your bed, no one came to see you. Not Lupin—Not Pettigrew—None of your supposed admirers—Not Black—"and his smile slit further,"—And not even Evans." He waited for James' reaction, his black eyes glinting with malicious glee, but James…

He didn't know how to respond.

He felt nothing at the declaration.

Snape studied him a bit longer, and still when the comment did not elicit a response, his jeer slipped into transparent confusion. James stared back impassively. "Perhaps you're suffering severe brain trauma—more than you already do anyway," Snape stated, leaning back. James rolled his eyes and sighed tiredly.

"I'm just not surprised," he admitted. "I'm sort of... at odds with everyone at the moment," James explained.

"I don't care, Potter," Snape jabbed.

"Of course you wouldn't, and yet you still brought me here," James commented. He saw Snape visibly bristle and felt pleased by such a reaction. "By the way, how'd you break the blinding curse?" What? That wasn't what he had wanted to say. It must have been some left over side-effect from the medicine Pomfrey had him on. He just hoped that Snape didn't notice just how uncomfortable he suddenly was.

"Is this guilt?" Snape asked disbelievingly after an awkward stretch of silence. "And just so you know, I don't feel an ounce of it. In fact, I think I was too lenient."

"This is too lenient?" James asked deadpanned as he gingerly probed his wound. Snape smirked down on him.

"I assure you, it could have been far worse."

"I didn't recognize the spell," James stated, more to himself than to Snape.

"That's because it's my own," Snape said, and James detected more than just pride in his tone. He slowly regarded the Slytherin who stood calmly beside his bed. Snape was at the level where he could invent his own spells?

"Well... I suppose if you have nothing better to do..." he barely managed to get out.

"That's right. Tell yourself you're not the least bit disconcerted," Snape grinned.

"With what?" James whipped back. In truth, he could never let on how right Snape was.

"You think I'm surpassing you," Snape began. His voice was low, quiet—suitable in respect for a place such as the Hospital Wing—but the edges of his words bit out at James' insides with a glacial severity. "I know I have already, Potter... long ago."

"You're not better than me," James replied quietly, his chest tightening uncomfortably.

"I no longer care. I don't have time for this—"

"Can you feel darkness?"

Snape stilled, and James wanted to bash the back of his skull in. Why had he just asked that? What the hell did that even mean? He could feel the Slytherin's calculating scrutiny.

"Why are you asking me?"

"Because you're right next to me," James answered exasperatedly, dodging the real reason as to why he put the question to the Slytherin in the first place.

"I don't think so. It's because you think I'm up to my eyes in Dark-Arts—Because I have to be so utterly tainted by evil to appreciate such magic, right?" James was not so naive that he couldn't hear the defensiveness in Snape's tone.

"Sure... you've read my mind," James replied flippantly. He would not acknowledge why he asked what he asked, but he knew he wanted to hear what Snape's answer was.

"You can't _feel_ darkness, Potter. I don't believe that absence of light is something tangible," Snape chided.

"And here I thought you'd understand a metaphorical question. Don't you loom by candlelight in your dank cavern, penning all your little woes down on parchment?" James sneered.

"Your romanticism is sickening," Snape said harshly, "and even metaphorically, your notion is still ridiculous."

"So... you don't then," James surmised. Did he feel disappointed by that?

"Why are you asking at all?" Snape inquired. It was not without difficulty that James replied.

"Because I think I can."

He thought he sensed Snape tense beside him, but when he cautioned a furtive glance, Snape was merely regarding him in the same way he might a stain on his robes. James felt his skin crawl under the unwavering stare.

"What? You can spit it out, you know. You think I'm ridiculous, don't you? Well maybe someone so cut off from others can't even begin to feel—"

"That's not what I was going to say," Snape cut in.

"Then what?"

"Just that maybe you're not as stupid as I thought you were."

James felt his stomach flip, and he immediately berated himself for such a reaction. He did not feel happy about possibly being complimented—at least complimented in Snape's own twisted way. Yes, he was definitely not pleased about it… Maybe.

Just then Madam Pomfrey came bustling in, saving James from possibly making an arse out of himself, and wasting no time in examining her patient. Snape made no attempt to leave. James felt like closing in on himself, the room was getting a bit warm.

"Hmm… are you running a slight fever, I wonder?" Madam Pomfrey remarked, bringing the back of her hand to James' forehead. "You do seem a little flushed…"

Why did Hogwarts feel it necessary to have an anti-apparition jinx?

Snape's brow furrowed in confusion, and James wanted to inform the Slytherin that his presence was anything but a comfort to one ailing such as him.

"I'll be back with some medicine to soothe the wound. It may also take some of that warmness away," the nurse announced as she leaned back from James. She then turned to Snape. "Thank you again, Mr. Snape, for bringing him here." She turned to leave after Snape gave a slight bow of his head, but James could hear her talking to herself as she shuffled in the back pantry. "What a bizarre spell—to make someone lose consciousness like that…" James fixed his glare on Snape.

"One of yours, I take it?" he accused hotly. Snape crossed his arms over his chest, and James watched as one of his long, pale fingers began tapping his upper arm.

"Why, Potter. I'm flattered you think I've managed to event two such debilitating spells," he said smugly. James gritted his teeth.

"So you didn't then?"

"No, I did—I just think it's odd that you'd readily assume it as well," Snape said evenly, his gaze darting over to the window as if he couldn't be bothered to address James directly.

"One nasty spell and now this one—I don't believe it was such an enormous leap, do you?" James bit back.

"—Of course, my spell shouldn't cause someone to break out with a fever…" he continued on, and he looked down at James haughtily. "You must be of a weaker disposition than I thought." James tensed.

"Whatever, Snape. Don't you have somewhere else to be?" he asked.

"Too true, Potter," and with that, Snape was striding out in a swish of black robes. James had never seen anyone leave a room so… dramatically before. James almost felt himself smile at the thought when Snape suddenly stopped and faced him again from the doorway. "One more thing, Potter," Snape began coldly. "You've been out for a whole day—You've missed Potions class. Miss another, and I really will take full credit for it."

And then he was gone.

James stared off at the now empty space between the double doors, his eyes half-lidded and really taking in nothing.

But his mind sure was astir.

That… had been the oddest encounter with Snape… to date. He squirmed lower into his bed sheets, brining the soft fabric up over his nose so that only his eyes and the top of his head were poking out. He replayed it in his mind over and over again, trying to wheedle out any tale-tale signs that Snape was up to something diabolic—something Slytherin.

But he just couldn't.

Merely, Snape had only wanted to do what James himself might have done if their roles had been reversed— Run the humiliation of the loser into the ground. Only… really… Snape hadn't been as… relentless as say James might have been, and that, more than anything, peeked his interest— made his mind scramble further to make sense of it all.

He tossed over onto his side and stared out of the window. The light was too bright just then, making him squint reflexively, so he turned on his other side. But there were the double doors, and that just made him think about how he was alone in the room again. He didn't like it, so he turned unto his back again. And as he stared up at the ceiling, he wondered if Peeves the Poltergeist would have the common decency to spread a little mayhem down in the Hospital wing for entertainment's sake.

What James loathed more than anything was boredom…

Didn't it use to be something else though?

When Madam Pomfrey appeared again with a round of concoctions to take, James was eased into a restful slumber by the end of it. And as he closed his eyes, one thought permeated the fog of sleep.

_I wonder if Snape will come back tomorrow…_

* * *

James made sure to take as long as possible when reaching his potions class. If he timed it correctly, he'd get there just as Slughorn would commence the day's lesson. He couldn't bear to suffer through the arduous awkwardness with Sirius at the moment, and he certainly didn't think he could pretend that his friend hadn't shown up to see if he was still alive. He understood why Sirius shouldn't have come, but he didn't understand why his mate hadn't. Remus and Peter were excusable—they were too easily influenced by Sirius' whims. And Lily…?

Well, James didn't think he had wanted to see her even if she had come.

He paused outside the classroom, the lively banter inside filling the hall. He was good; Slughorn was just about ready to get down to business. James sauntered in, like he would any other day—like he hadn't just been dismissed by his circle of friends— and took his seat where he did every time.

It was okay because Sirius was in the back with Remus.

His friends hadn't acknowledged him—Well, Remus had, sort of, with a slight wave—but that was alright because James wasn't acknowledging them either. When he had returned from the hospital wing, his supposed mates hadn't even glanced up from their what looked to be a study session but was more likely just a scapegoat to ignore James with. He hadn't cared. Not really. Not like he should have anyway. This all right now was only a show—a demonstration that James could endure under the childishness of his mates and do so indifferently. After all, he was above such things, right?

That's what he told himself as he sidled into his seat and adopted his usual stance of boredom and disinterest. He wouldn't admit that he knew differently.

Class started up, and Slughorn instructed all the students to get into their pairs. There was a shuffling of chairs and papers and bags and a quiet murmur of voices as the students did just that. James made no motion to move, but then again, neither did Snape. Only once the entire class had settled into their pairs did Slughorn realize the two sitting at opposite ends of the room.

"You two—someone needs to move," Slughorn said. James wouldn't budge. It wasn't a test; he was just making a point. He nonchalantly glanced over at Snape, the Slytherin's back was to him. Yes, James would not go over to Snape.

Snape would come to him.

And then Snape stood, and James allowed himself to feel the surge of triumph in his chest because it meant that everything was normal.

But Snape deviated.

He went to fetch the cauldron, and he levitated it back to his side of the room before he gathered the ingredients and arranged them in that way that only he understood to be most efficient and effective. He never turned to see if James was there—that he even knew James was there— and James had the disheartening thought that Snape was glad that he was not in class. The bereft disappointment only morphed into irritation at the blatant dismissal.

James gathered his things irately, and crossing the room in less steps than it normally took, he casted his bag off his shoulder and plopped down beside Snape. The only recognition he received from the Slytherin was a slight brow rise. Then again, that could be Snape's focus on the potion, but James was more than irritated to care at this point.

"Sorry to disappoint you," James said, rearranging the ingredients flippantly. Snape did not respond. "I bet you thought this project was all yours to claim."

"If only I were so fortunate," Snape mumbled inattentively, his face stooped low over the simmering contents of the cauldron. "Do your part, Potter," he then said, blithely gesturing to the nettles. James blinked confusedly for a moment. Snape was truly different when it came to Potions, it seemed. The strangeness of his attitude even alleviated some of James' bitterness.

Some.

"I'd say I'm rather intrigued by this bout of confidence you've seemed to have found, but really… it's just an irritant," James said, and even as he spewed forth the insult, he found it didn't carry the charm that his wit usually did. Worse yet was how even through the insult, James was doing exactly as Snape had instructed him to do.

"It's not newly found, Potter," Snape said distantly as he scribbled something down in his potions book. James glanced over and saw that most of the margins had been crammed full of tiny, sprawling writing. It seems the book really was Snape's diary. "You've just been forcing your presence on me more than usual. You were bound to notice it sooner or later."

James balked, and he almost dropped the gutted innards of a lizard all over Snape. Snape eyed him warily and realizing that it was because James had been stunned into that reaction, he casted a rueful smile. "You've noticed this, too, I take it?" Snape taunted. James tried his hardest to ignore the relentless palpitations of his heart, but the ensuing tightening in his chest was a different matter altogether. "I've told you before why I think this happens," Snape said blandly as he turned to what he surely thought was more important.

"Snape, I swear, if I hear it regurgitated from your mouth one more time I'll—" James began.

"What? Curse me? And how did that go the other night?" Snape put snidely. James ignored this effortlessly as he glinted at Snape spitefully.

"—or I'll levitate this potion right over Slughorn. And, if I'm as lackadaisical with my magic as you've implied, who knows how long it'll take before the entire contents spill." This was a stupendously trifling thing of a prank, but James didn't care. It was getting the intended reaction out of the Slytherin that he had hoped it would. Snape narrowed his eyes and shifted his gaze warily to where Slughorn was currently hovering over Lily's potion.

"Yes, I'm so sure," Snape smiled, turning back to James. He didn't think he would. Not with Lily in the crossfire.

"Oh, I wouldn't be though," and James flicked his wand from out of his robe, whispered the proper incantation, and their cauldron hovered above the fire a good four inches. Snape threw his hands out as if to physically hinder the cauldron when sensing the incredible heat emanating from it, he withdrew. He looked wildly over at James.

"That would be incredibly low… even for you," he hissed. James wondered for a moment if it was because he thought Lily in danger or his potion. He snuffed the thought that told him what he wanted it to be.

"I'm only fucking with you, Snivellus. I'd only get like a month's worth of detention, and then I'd probably just have to do this potion all over again… _with_ you, so… No. I'm sorry. You're not worth that level of strife," James answered returning the cauldron back to its rightful spot.

"No, but you still may have ruined it, Potter," Snape chastised as he fretted over the concoction. "If its lost even a fraction of the heat needed, this whole project is botched." James watched interestedly as Snape checked over their potion again and again. After a moment, he stood back, looking relieved. "Luckily, you haven't screwed us both over. How about you call upon that rumored Gryffindor civility I've yet to witness so we can finish this without incident?" Snape put callously. James pursed his lips out in thought and then shrugged his shoulders. Sound reasoning he supposed.

So the rest of the class did, indeed, go on without further happenings, James working surprisingly well under the Slytherin's muted guidance. That was until Slughorn suddenly called for them to wrap up their day's work so the final instructions could be doled out. The students did as instructed, they neatly put away their cauldrons and ingredients so as to be replaced by parchment and quills.

And they all jotted down the notes for the day as dictated by Slughorn.

James was finishing up the bit on how their potion was of use to some famous witch or wizard in a time before he could even care about when he stretched through the monotony of note taking and tapped his knee against Snape's.

He stilled.

A pang of shock raced through his body, but why should it have? It was nothing more than an accidental bump, and nothing to remark upon. Only that he did, and he found that after a minute's reflection…

…he wanted to do it again.

So he did. But this time he didn't pull it away, and Snape, either not noticing or not caring, did not move his. James gripped his quill tighter, fraying the feathers in his clammy grasp.

And still, he shifted his leg more so that his outer thigh barely brushed up against Snape's. His heart was merciless in his ribcage, like he believed that at any moment, the muscle would puncture his lungs, but he moved his leg further and further until his the entire outside of his leg was pressed against Snape's.

And James did feel the tension in the other then…

But Snape hadn't moved his leg yet either.

He wondered how much further he could push into Snape… There was such heat between their thighs—And a heat in his chest—on the back of his neck and the base of his skull—

—and a heat spreading out from his stomach and moving lower…

James almost jolted in shock when the bell sounded sonorously through the class.

"Ah! Seems that's all for today, class! Remember to read the passages from pages sixty five to seventy eight! Off with you lot now!"

James made to open his mouth, to say something to the Slytherin— his name— a sound—something! But before Slughorn had even properly finished his sentence, Snape was out the door.

And James staggered up. He gathered his things. Yes, he did notice the slight tremble in his hand. He adjusted the strap over his shoulder. Yes, his knees certainly wobbled under the weight. And he made to leave as well.

And yes, his body was unbearably warm.

Were his glasses fogging up, too? No… his vision was blurry though. Did Snape put that spell on him again? No… James wasn't feeling tired.

He felt delirious.

He almost walked into a desk only to then almost stumble into another Slytherin before he reigned in what remained of his fraying senses and bolted.

He tore down the hall, jostling pedestrian after pedestrian until he made his way up to the abandoned corridor on the third floor and hid himself in one of its dusted, neglected rooms.

He slid down unto the ground and cradled his rampaging head in his hands and knew exactly what was wrong with him.

And how could he have been so stupid?

How could he have sunk so low?

How could he have let that darkness defile him this much?

Because this was nothing but a curse— A just consequence for James allowing that pooling murk to fester within him.

And he didn't care that his heart was beating uncontrollably and not just out of shock. And he didn't care that his body was shaking slightly with trepidation… At the prospect? No, it couldn't be. And he didn't care that there was a little voice in the back of his skull singing its relief that he finally had a name to put to this sensation.

He didn't care about all these things because the only thing he could think of was how…

He no longer hated Snape has much as he thought.

—that he didn't hate him at all, and that, in fact…

…it was quite the opposite.


	8. Towards the Point of No Return

Thanks again for all the reviews!

I hope you all like this chapter!

**Chapter 7: Towards the Point of No Return**

He did his best to squelch it. It was certainly not for lack of trying, which he did… desperately. For Days.

But there he was again, tracking his movements through furtive glances and peripheral gazes, eyes always half-lidded and head ducked low… because no one could know. The fact that he had even acknowledged it meant nothing because this was as much as he'd do.

Just watch him.

That's all.

Nothing more.

Because he wouldn't—he shouldn't…

James glanced away quickly when Snape made a sharp turn of the head from across the Dining Hall. Yes… It could never be anything more than this. James would make sure of that. He didn't want to do anything more than this.

He didn't.

"You really should talk to him," came a voice, and James started. He looked up in shock to find Remus staring down at him passively. It took awhile for James' mind to comprehend that who Remus was referring to was, in fact, not the person James was thinking of. He glanced down the long table to where Sirius was currently laughing it up with some seventh year. There was a dull knotting in his stomach, but it could have been gas for all he cared.

"He seems alright," James eventually replied, and Remus gave a sad smile. James turned his head in spite and bit a chunk out of his apple where a little of the juice splattered against his chin. _Great,_ he thought, perturbed as he wiped the juice away, _Here comes the damn lecture…_

"It's only three more days until Christmas break, you know," Remus said. James knew what the prefect was implying, but his stubbornness was not to be underestimated.

"Happy tidings," he said indifferently, and Remus frowned.

"This is stupid. What even happened? I couldn't get a coherent story out of him," Remus sighed, sitting down across from him. James would not shift his head to get a better view of what was now blocked.

"That's because it makes no sense—I didn't do anything wrong… really."

"It's not like things are easy for him right now," Remus continued. It took a lot out of James to not roll his eyes just then. However, he found he didn't have enough left within him afterwards to abate the eruption he felt.

"Why are you lecturing me on this, hmm?" he started, his tone low but by no means soft. "What have you done to help him?"

"You know I'm not his best—"

"It's easy for you to sit back and counsel everyone on what they're doing wrong—" James cut in. "When you have a hand in nothing, it's so much easier to point the finger, right?" and he stood up, his hands braced upon the table. "But what do you _ever_ do?" he whispered harshly.

He left before he could discern the enigmatic expression on Remus' face. He didn't want to see it. Remus didn't get to make James feel like even more of an arse than he already did.

He stormed through the halls, killing time until classes started up. Thank Merlin it was only three more days until the holidays. He didn't know how much more of it he could withstand—being around his mates—being around Lily— Just being in the vicinity of that certain someone was unbearable for him. If he could, he'd sleep through the day just so he wouldn't have to face any of them. None of them were a comfort to him, and he knew he was far from being good company for them.

Thinking it only a couple more minutes before the first class, James deviated towards Defense. He was only thankful that the class was split with the Ravenclaws, and now that he had pissed off Remus, it should be fairly easy to ignore the lot of them and to be ignored in turn.

It was that recognition that made James think it was all a rather bizarre situation to be in. What exactly was he battling against here? His mates? Sirius? Lily? Snape?

Himself?

And because he could not answer his own question, he felt as though this juncture had no right path and that there'd be no absolute victor. He stood at some unconquerable impasse where everything was governed by the illogical and inaccessible- Where he was left alone with the one thing that flourished in this confusion.

And oh how the darkness in him was creeping out more and more, like a sludge oozing out of the deepest, coldest hole. And James was horrified that it might come to cover him fully, cloaking all that he was and blocking out all that he had known.

That's why he couldn't let… what he wanted to let happen… happen.

The consequences would be too great.

It wouldn't happen.

It couldn't happen…

He was the first one into class, and he couldn't even be bothered to respond to professor Corbarden who nodded to him in slight surprise. James was barely ever on time for classes, let alone early for one. He chose a seat that was in the back of the class, never occupied and always isolated from most of the others. The rest of students began filing in one after the other, the streaming chatter punctuated here and there by the voices he recognized best, and James merely sat at his desk, swirling a finger over the grooves of the wood, wondering if this is where Snape would sit during class…

And that was, for the last couple of days now, how classes-how time-passed for James, everything tedious and disconnected. Everything, really, except Potions. Most of the classes alongside Snape went by without incident, but there were those times when his elbow would bump Snape's, or their arms would slightly shift against each other's, or their hands would touch briefly… lightly…

Those times usually almost resulted in a catastrophe for the potion because James would either drop ingredients, or knock into the cauldron, or a mess up a step… Luckily for them, Snape's attunement to his potion prevented such disasters, and oddly enough… James wondered if Snape was beginning to anticipate such occurrences; they did happen quite often… But that couldn't be. That was just James… being James, right?

As if Snape was aware that the status quo had changed, had shifted and altered so greatly that James, himself, no longer knew what was going on. He might have sensed that James wasn't behaving normally, but he would most likely link that to the fact that Sirius, in just three more days, would be leaving. He would never suspect it was because James couldn't get a handle on his new found realizations, that he was being overruled by something so much more baser than he cared to admit.

That it was actually the Slytherin that was getting under his skin…

When classes were over, James always needed another outlet for his restlessness, and it was usually to the Quidditch field that he went. But on this day, the prospect of taking to the skies just didn't feel as though it was going to satisfy him, but what else could he do? He certainly couldn't lounge around in the Gryffindor tower, not when all those he didn't wish to see were all collected together currently. He didn't want to risk getting detention for a chance to sneak out into Hogsmeade as this time of day either. He supposed if he was really bored, maybe he could go bother the groundskeeper who was a nice enough fellow though he seemed a bumbling half-giant. Then again… he didn't feel like being personable with anyone. So where was the one place one could go if they felt like being a recluse?

And when it occurred to him, James didn't think it such a bad plan. At least this way, he could devote the time he needed to pick back up that research he had abandoned weeks ago. Pleased with his decision, James turned on his heel and headed for the library. Sure it would be crowded (most likely the Ravenclaws would have taken over much of the room, and James wondered why there needed to be a Ravenclaw tower when the house simply spent all their free time in the library), but there were always those tables shoved off in the colder, poorly lit corners that no one ever frequented. That'd be just perfect for him.

Once in the library, he meandered between the long stretches of shelves, twisting this way and that through the labyrinth the walls of books created. Sure enough, table after table was crammed with students, most of them, indeed, wearing the colors of blue and bronze. James would snort in amusement, if he felt amusement then. Nearing the furthest reaches of the room, James was beginning to think that he'd have to abandon this plan as well when he heard a familiar voice. A very familiar voice.

A very familiar voice that made his chest flutter and his stomach tighten.

"Why do you feel it necessary to discuss these things with me… at the current moment?"

James darted to the nearest shelf that kept him close to the speaker but kept him hidden as well. Who was Snape talking to?

"Do you deny that you are curious?" another voice spoke. It was a male, and judging by the drawling, lazy, haughty tone… it was no doubt that Malfoy git. James tilted his head to favor a better hearing position.

"Curiosity means nothing, Lucius. I need to know the purpose," Snape replied back, and James heard the soft rustles of a page being turn. He imagined Snape sitting there bored while Malfoy tried to garner his attention.

"I think you have already surmised the purpose of this exchange, but if you need me to say it out loud for you I will," Malfoy said. James furrowed his brows. Just what were these two talking about? And what was Malfoy going to confess, hmm? As James listened in intently, he ignored that gentle throb in his chest. Snape had yet to say anything, but James could just imagine that brow of his quirking up in response. "You should consider the offer. You know what this opportunity could provide you," Malfoy stated, which was less than helpful for James who at the enigmatic statement, only found himself worrying more. But why? What did he think was happening here? That Malfoy was somehow going to say something James shouldn't overhear? Something embarrassing perhaps? Something so telling that just hearing it would fill James with jealousy?

He wondered then why he had not taken it upon himself to just _obliviate_ his thoughts away. Self-induced amnesia was surely less torturous than what he had lately been forcing onto himself.

"Those who have no real connections, no true bloodline to speak of, are given a voice, Severus, and you could be among those who are at the top of the wizarding world," Malfoy continued. Now James really was confused. He hugged the shelf closer, as if that would allow him to glean a better understanding from the conversation unfurling before him.

"You're implying that those who join are all treated as equals," Snape replied evenly. There was a very long, and perhaps very purposeful, drawn out pause.

"Of course," Malfoy said at last, and James got the impression that Malfoy would have rather chocked on those last words than have them uttered out though his teeth. There was another pause, and this time James knew that Snape was calculatingly watching Malfoy. For what reason though? Maybe if he understood what the conversation was about, he'd be able to guess, but as it was, James was utterly lost.

"Ridiculous," Snape replied, finally. James heard the turning of pages once more. "Why should I degrade my abilities just to have others held in the same regard? I don't think so, Lucius." Possibly even more confusing than the conversation was the sudden elation James felt at hearing Snape's blatant dismissal of Malfoy. Whatever poppycock Malfoy was trying to shove off onto Snape didn't sound so legit, even if James didn't know what that poppycock could possibly entail. Really, anything out of Malfoy mouth was not to be trusted.

"You should watch what you say," Malfoy then hissed dangerously. "That display of disrespect may be tolerated here, but when _this_ is all done with… Well, you would do well to remember who your superiors are."

Again, James found himself at the mercy of some invisible impetus and could do nothing to stop it, so he stepped from around the bookshelf.

"Well after me that would be… no one, right Snape?" James spoke, and he did so well to not smile when Snape looked up surprised and when Malfoy actually, visibly tensed.

"Potter," Malfoy acknowledged, and this time James did allow himself to smile. Not because he was amused at how Malfoy had spat his name, but how Snape was staring at him as if he was some corporeal form sent to haunt him. "I didn't sense you there," Malfoy added, and James heard the annoyance in the tone. Oh well. What did he care if he had broken up such a private conversation?

"Come now, Snape. Surely you're not going to stand by such a proclamation, right? You'd be wrong to contest it, but… it's what you do, so…" James continued, ignoring Malfoy. This level of insult felt more like a gentle sting, one meant to encourage the other into a round of banter. He had felt no malice as he had spoken, and he wondered if Snape would sense that as well.

After a second more in which Snape did nothing to hide his confusion, he slipped it under that perfectly composed mask that he was so apt at wearing. Only this time, James saw the smallest of small twitches in the corner of the Slytherin's mouth.

"Again you've deluded yourself into thinking I somehow have betters, and worse yet… that you would even be one of them," Snape replied, eyes dark and glinting, and James felt his chest swell from it. Snape had no idea that his remark would not be having its intended and usual effect. James, because the surge had been too great to force words out past, shrugged his shoulders as nonchalantly as he could.

"Potter, no one here has time to humor you, so if you would..." Malfoy announced, gesturing with his hand that James was dismissed.

"Nonsense... it's why anyone would come to the library—too much time on their hands," James replied.

"And then that excess time is given a purpose, and it's not going to be wasted on you," Snape countered calmly, and James felt a slight heat creep across the back of his neck.

"It'd be anything but a waste, Snape," James said, moving towards the table. Snape didn't even tense as he kept his detached focus on James. Malfoy looked to James as if this was a most ghastly affront to his person. "I'm such good company after all."

"Yes, always the highlight of my day," Snape said dryly, and James smiled.

"What a high compliment you pay me."

"You would take it that way, wouldn't you?" he smiled, too, though his was anything but kind.

"This is highly boorish of you, Potter," Malfoy cut in. "To come charging in on a conversation when clearly your presence is nothing but an annoyance," Malfoy hissed out harshly in the bizarre raspy tone that almost made James cringe from irritation. Snape, who continued to stare at James curiously, rested an elbow on the table and covered his bottom lip in thought with those long fingers of his. James' mouth suddenly went dry.

James, because he didn't know where to look just then, began staring down the shelves until he stopped on a particular spine of a book. His brows rose in surprise as he lifted the book from its place of resting and read over its title once more.  
"_Tonguing the Unknown?_" he read aloud, and he looked to Snape amusedly.

"Potter, I swear, your crass humor is obnoxious. That's obviously a rough translation of its actual title," Snape lectured. Even the Slytherin could see that James was holding a very old Potions book.

"I dunno, Snape," he said, flipping through the pages. The pictures were certainly crude enough. "I think you're sitting back here for a reason. Is this the dirty section or something?" he joked stupidly.

"Potter!" Malfoy cried indignantly. "No one here will stoop so low as to humor you or to stroke that ego of yours." And James raised his brows in shock as he looked to the older Slytherin in surprise. Snape, too, looked taken aback. He then ducked his head tiredly.

"Well, it seems as though it is now, Potter," Snape declared, and it took everything James had not to smile with actual amusement just then. Malfoy, ruffling indignantly, clicked his tongue in disapproval before he turned on his heel and strode past James whose resolve was fracturing with the barest of grins just then. Once Malfoy had left in an uppity huff, James turned once more to Snape.

"What's his problem?" James put innocently as he scooted a chair back. Snape pursed his lips as if in thought.

"Well… he's a spoiled pureblood, so…" he began, and when he didn't say anything more, James quirked a brow. "No, that was it," Snape concluded simply, and James actually felt himself smirking. He wondered then if Snape found Malfoy as disagreeable as James always had.

"Is this where you always sit?" he asked after a moment, and if Snape was taken aback by the sudden and casual question, he didn't show it.

"It has become my spot," Snape confirmed as he went back to focusing on the book before him. James frowned.

"Why back here?" James pressed as he sat down across from the Slytherin. This time Snape did show his confusion.

"Why not back here? It's virtually cut off from everyone else," Snape supplied, and James snorted.

"Don't' you think that's a little too on the nose?" James joked, but at Snape's questioning look, he sighed and added, "You just practically admitted to being a loner, Snape."

"But I am," he said back so simply that… it made James' heart throb, and whatever slight smile that had been on his face was cleanly and swiftly wiped away. That Snape could admit to something that would make others curve in on themselves with shame and regret… Who could so openly declare such a thing and feel nothing in return? At James' silence, Snape narrowed his eyes. "You act surprised," he said cautiously.

"I am, sort of," James admitted, laying an arm across the table and then resting his chin upon that. "Most people don't go around declaring such things." Snape actually smiled in turn. Well, not smile so much as grin, and it was nothing short of bitter. It made James tense.

"Most people are in utter denial about who there are, and unlike them… I have no such falsehoods," Snape said evenly, and James felt something he hadn't felt in such a long time. A pang of resentment resounded within the pits of his stomach, and he turned his head to rest his cheek on his arm and began to stare at nothing in particular. It was something that James had often remarked upon but never gave any merit, mainly because he never gave Snape any merits, but this self awareness that Snape possessed...

...James wanted it for himself as well.

He would never voice that he secretly coveted something that Snape had because that was not how things should stand between them. It was Snape who was too envy all that James had. It could not come to be different. If it did, if he ever admitted such a thing... he was sure that would be the thing to undo him.

"No counter then, I take it?" came Snape, and James moved his head slightly, straining his eyes upward in order to look at the Slytherin.

"I'm sorry, had that meant to be a backhanded way of insulting me?" James asked as he began lightly tapping the underside of the table with his other hand.

"I don't know... I thought I was pretty straight forward with that one," Snape replied blandly, and James shook his head slightly.

"How unusual for you then," he said, and he was confused when something flashed across Snape's face just then. If he wasn't mistaken, it looked like resentment.

"You don't know me well enough to make such declarations," Snape put callously, and without conscience thought or recognition, James responded.

"Yes I do," and he froze, and he sensed Snape mirroring him. He cautiously peeked over at the Slytherin and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. Snape looked... if it were at all possible—And maybe James was just horribly mistaken, but James felt he wasn't— But it couldn't be, right?

Snape turned his head, his face contorted in that way that expressed nothing but worry.

But what did it mean?

"You may think you do," Snape began softly, diffidently, and James didn't miss how the Slytherin's fingers coiled around his book all the tighter. "But I assure you you're nothing short of wrong."

"And yet I'm the one who's so clearly understood by you, right?" James asked, feeling his insides squirm with a disappointment he did not understand. That Snape could make such rationalizations about him but that the same could not be said for James was something that did upset him.

"I can't help that you are so simplistically obvious about everything," Snape issued out, his tone gaining in evenness as his confidence returned. With this statement, James sensed his lips upturning in a smirk that could rival all of the Slytherins' because he knew something that Snape was so ignorant to. If James was really as translucent as Snape proclaimed, he was certain that the other wouldn't be talking to him in that moment.

But Snape didn't know...

"Well, I don't think you're as complicated as _you_ think you are, Snape," James retorted, but Snape brushed this off indifferently. Not knowing what else to say just then, James closed his mouth as a quiet befell them. Snape, seemingly uninterested in James' continual forced company, turned once more to his book. James couldn't even be bothered to see what had the Slytherin so distracted that he would even allow this prolonged proximity.

And just how distracted was he anyway?

As James pondered this, he slowly outstretched his hand from under the table towards Snape. He stared blankly at a spot on the wall as his hand moved forward tentatively, his heart laboring painfully under the movement. He heard Snape turn a page, and then James brushed two of his fingers across Snape's knee. His breath was sucked out from him as his whole body tensed.

He waited, and Snape did nothing.

Slowly, he ran his fingers down the fabric of Snape's trousers, and his breathing picked back up in full force. Snape turned another page in his book.

"Snape?" James croaked out, not knowing why he felt it necessary to bring attention to himself. He felt Snape tense under his touch and thought he had been found out, but Snape merely seemed taken aback at the sudden break in silence, as if he had completely forgotten that James was even there.

"What?" Snape demanded— no doubt annoyed at being interrupted. James swallowed hard as his fingers coursed along Snape's shin.

"Tell me something," he managed to get out. "You keep saying that I should never have been in Gryffindor," he began as his mind thrummed with nervousness. "Does this also mean you have another particular house in mind for me?" For a minute Snape said nothing, and James, rather than suffer under the stretch of silence, concentrated on how the fabric of Snape's trousers felt. He was almost panting from it all.

"Strange that you ask me so calmly," Snape remarked, and if James had enough within him to scoff at the statement, he would. He was anything but calm at the moment. And why hadn't Snape sensed anything yet?

"This is not what's strange here, Snape," he replied quietly as he paused his fingers on the boy's knee again.

"What do you mean?" Snape asked, evenly, and James scrambled together his thoughts.

"I think it's odd that you spend so much time thinking about it," he declared. Again, he felt Snape shift under his hand. "You think I was meant for Slytherin, don't you?" he continued.

"Yes."

"Then why aren't I?" he asked.

"Because the hat does take the student's choices into consideration. That does not mean, however, that Gryffindor is the proper house for you," Snape explained, his tone low.

"And you chose Slytherin on your own then?" James surmised; his fingers felt so warm.

"I had no such inklings on where to be placed," Snape replied, and James titled his head upward to look at the Slytherin.

"That's not true," he said, and Snape furrowed his brows. "You knew where you wanted to be placed. You just didn't know it until the sorting ceremony," James argued, calmly enough despite how he now lightly gripped the boy's loose fabric in his grasp. Snape narrowed his eyes, and his jaw tightened.

"Whatever are you talking about?" Snape encouraged though his tone was dangerous. James did not balk, however.

"You, too, wanted to be placed in a certain house," James began quietly, that now too familiar sensation forever within him leaking up into his chest. "After all, you saw where she was sorted into." James knew Snape understood just who 'she' was referring to, and the Slytherin's eyes narrowed further as a nasty grin split across his face. He never said anything to the contrary though, but maybe he couldn't just then. Perhaps even Snape had his moments where words failed him. James pressed on, however. "But what I find really interesting," —and his finger grazed the tip of Snape's thigh— "is why you think it was me who was wrongly sorted and not you."

"Explain," Snape seethed, but it seemed to James as if Snape wanted him to really do no such thing. Where was Snape's wand at the moment? Things were certainly getting much too constricted...

"If the sorting hat could make mistakes, then why was it with me and not you?" he asked. His neck hurt under the strain of looking at Snape in this odd angle, but if he moved, he could no longer reach the other from under the table... "Do you want me in Slytherin?"

And that was it-possibly the thing that would make his heart give out. If only he was so fortunate though… He didn't want to be so cognitive of everything just then, but his heart kept beating, and he kept on breathing, and thinking, and being... And now he had to suffer under the look of absolute loathing Snape threw his way just then. Why had he uttered such a statement?

"How could even you be so egotistical to assume such a thing?" the Slytherin spat.

"I'm not assuming anything. Why else would you always say such things?"

"Because you should be! If I am in Slytherin then you should be as well!" Snape cried, the hands gripping the book shaking slightly.

"And why's that?" he asked quietly, as he turned back away from Snape's glare. Snape's leg felt as though it was trembling slightly, too.

"Because…" and Snape stopped himself. He exhaled slowly, and James sensed he was trying to calm himself. "Did you not say that you felt something dark lurking inside you, Potter?" Snape then asked, and James felt as if the tables were about to be turned on him.

"Yes," he agreed. He could not argue otherwise, not when he had already unwillingly admitted it to the other.

"That's why then," the Slytherin said simply, and James closed his eyes.

…'_that's why…'_

"What? No argument?" Snape jabbed, and James felt his insides churning as that tenebrous pool surged. He shook his head.

"I can't…" he said weakly. He heard Snape exhale once more, and looked over curiously. Snape's eyes were closed, and he was rubbing at his temples exhaustedly.

"Dammit, Potter…" he sighed. "Why are you even talking to me?" he asked, and James turned his head again as he gave a thin smile; he didn't want the Slytherin to see his expression just then.

"What do you mean? Shouldn't you have a pretty good guess, being that I'm so abandoned now?" Snape looked at him wearily, like it was just too much effort to deal with the Gryffindor just then, but he quirked his brow as if to inform James that he could proceed. "Because maybe talking to you is loads better than… than me being my one companion."

He momentarily berated himself for admitting such a thing. It wasn't something that he in his right mind would ever have allowed to leak out, but James already knew that he wasn't really alright anymore. He was certain that the Slytherin would scoff at this, or turn away insulted, or argue that that was no real good reason at all, and he was certainly not expecting Snape to say what he did next.

"So even you realize how abhorrently obnoxious you are."

It wasn't that Snape had flung another insult his way—that had been expected—it was, however, the completely dry way he had delivered it. There was no venom behind the words, no malice or contempt, and James' breath was caught in a suffocating knot within his throat. This was how he sometimes joked around with Sirius and Remus—and when the boy could handle it—Peter.

But never Snape. Not like this.

And then a most ludicrous and insipid thought came into being within his head. A thought that made the murk within him swim with glee and refused to remain unsaid.

"Say, Snape?" he was able to get out after a moment, almost unwillingly, as he stroked a finger across the side of the Slytherin's upper calf. "Do you think if I had been placed in Slytherin… we'd have been friends?" Snape actually started—James had felt it— but the Slytherin was very skilled at schooling his emotions back into something indiscernible.

"I highly doubt that, Potter. No one is friends in the House of Slytherin." Sure that made sense, he supposed. He had certainly witnessed enough interactions between the Slytherins to know that most of them were highly guarded. Even Snape's and Malfoy's conversation of earlier proved as much. But James was more stubborn than most…

"But maybe you don't hate me as much as you think you do…" he said softly. That had been another thought that had been lurking quietly in the back of his mind for the past couple of days. It just never had enough fortitude to reveal itself… Until now that is.

"I don't think I could possibly hate you more," Snape whispered harshly, and James shuddered from it.

"I wouldn't say that, Snape..." James trailed, his heart hammering, his gut wrenching, his fingers trying to knot themselves within the fabrics of Snape's trousers...

"Why not, Potter?"

James hesitated just a moment as he contemplated his next words. Not on what to say, but what the words already circling in his head implied because these words, he felt, would bring him to the edge, to that point of no return, but he knew he wanted to say them. No doubt it was that darkness in him that favored this kind of stupidity.

"Because... for the last fifteen minutes... I've been touching your leg," he declared softly. Snape's eyes widen greatly to where the dark pupils stood a stark contrast against the white encasing them, and he stood abruptly, the chair scrapping against the floor sickeningly until it clamored unto the ground. And as Snape had stood, so had James... reflexively. There was such a dull pain in his chest as he watched the Slytherin's disgusted expression.

He knew he shouldn't have said anything.

He was done for.

Snape would know what that confession had meant; he would tell everyone else. James, as he stood hunched over the table with his hands braced upon its surface because he had no strength to stand otherwise, knew that the world he had understood and recognized was about to be turned upside down on him.

Because he had done it.

He had crossed over the point of no return, and was falling past the edge.

He looked over at Snape feeling nothing but regret, and everything within him ached from it.

"Are you fucking with me?"

And James blinked, the sudden question met with blockades of utter incomprehension.

"What?" he exhaled out in confusion. And Snape snarled at him.

"Are you… fucking with me?" Snape hissed out even lower and more quietly than before.

"N-no! Look, Snape, just forget it—what I said! Forget it!" James stammered. He felt like he was going to throw up.

"Then what are you up to?" Snape demanded virulently.

"Nothing!" James whispered, looking around in a panic. Could anyone overhear them?

"Yes you are, Potter! Stay the fuck away from me!" and James watched horrified as Snape rushed passed him. It wasn't until he sensed Snape so far away from him that James released the breath he had been keeping captive in one shaky exhale. It wasn't until that breath had been liberated that James saw how much he was trembling. It wasn't until this realization that he steeled his nerves once more.

And it wasn't until he had fortified his resolve that he tore off after Snape.


	9. Abyssus Abyssum Invocat

A/N: Yup… Here it is…

**WARNING:** If you do not appreciate slash and only like the fluff, then… you can't really avoid it in this chapter. I don't even know where to tell you to stop reading, it's kind of all in there. I guess just read until you think it's getting to be too much. This scene, while not graphic to me, is at least implicative and suggestive, so you have thus been warned.

To all those that do read… Enjoy!

**Chapter 8: Abyssus Abyssum Invocat**

It wasn't until James knew that too much time had passed when he remembered he had something to help him find the Slytherin, so he changed directions abruptly and flew towards the grand staircase. There were hardly any students out, and James hadn't realized that it was so late. That was fine for him, though, as he was met with no opposition. When he finally made it to the portrait of the Fat Lady, it took everything he had to not shout profanities when she didn't open immediately. Why must he always have to charm people to get what he wanted?

After another cloy smile from James, the Fat Lady giggled, and the portrait swung open. James wasted no time as he scrambled through. He tore passed the common room without so much as looking at all those crowded around the fire. He skipped three steps at a time as he rushed to the fifth year boy's dormitory. He almost flung the door off its hinges as he slammed it open, and his heavy stomping sounded loudly within the room. He slid to his trunk by his bedside and threw item after item out of it in search of what he wanted.

Sweaters, socks, smalls, extra robes—all went soaring out everywhere catching on the four poster bed and the table or plopping all across the ground, and then James reached the very bottom of his trunk and still he could not find what he was looking for. He scrambled back to his feet and almost tripped down the stairs as he ran to the common room.

"Where is it?" he shouted a bit breathlessly. He stared at Sirius who furrowed his brows in confusion. "Come on! Where?" James pressed urgently.

"Where's what?" came Remus, as he eased up off the floor and stared at James concernedly. Sirius' bafflement then swiftly morphed into anger, and he did nothing to hide his glare. Peter looked back and forth between the two eagerly as if they were about to come to blows.

"The map! Where is it?" James specified urgently. Remus looked to Sirius quickly as the boy's jaw dropped in shock. James didn't have time for secrecy here! He needed the damn map!

"Okay, okay, hold on, mate," Remus tried to soothe as he made his way towards James. Everyone else in the common room stared at James as if he sprouted a second head. He wished he had—an extra pair of eyes would help him search better. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"Not now! Please! Just help me find the map!" James pleaded. Then he remembered that he was a wizard and had something to make items that were lost reappear. He bolted back up to his sleeping quarters, leaving Remus behind as the boy looked one more time to Sirius and shrugged his shoulders. He stood in the doorway with his wand already poised and then intoned the summoning charm for the map. As first, nothing happened, and then he heard a rattle in the corner. Sirius' trunk gave a shutter before its lid burst open and a folded up bit up parchment came whizzing his way. Snatching it midair, he unfolded it quickly, tapped his wand upon its blank face, and frantically recited the magical phrase.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

And he wasn't.

Inky splotches began seeping across the yellowy paper in veins, branching out and connecting until the delineation of Hogwarts appeared. He roved his eyes over the map, little bubbles with names inside moved around like ants, but he couldn't find the one he wanted. He started to get anxious, and in his haste, he found himself looking over the same areas again and again. He blinked to alleviate the dryness setting in and focused once more. His eyes darted and flitted across the map, and then they stopped.

He had found Snape.

Down on the third corridor, in one of the many abandoned rooms, the Slytherin was currently pacing back and forth, the bubble with his name in it bounding around erratically. James' heart pounded recklessly from nerves as he spotted the name, but then his stomach clenched when he saw that the Slytherin he sought was not alone.

He could waste not a second more.

He turned around and almost collided into Remus who was just stalking up the stairs.

"James? Wait! What's wrong?" the boy shouted, but James had already bounded down the steps and was charging through the common room and toward the portrait. He swung the picture open unceremoniously and heard the Fat Lady give a cry of outrage as he spilled out of the hole and stumbled back up to his feet.

And then it was just a full blown run.

Never had he experienced this level of desperateness in all his life. Sanity told him that this course he was pursuing wouldn't lead to anything good, but that tenebrous voice whispered otherwise. It coaxed imperceptibly, as though it had already melded with his tendons and muscles and was shifting his bones so that his feet and legs moved all on their own.

But James was allowing it.

He cleared his way down the Gryffindor tower, barreled to the grand staircase, pattered down the steps and cursed loudly when he tripped down the last few of them before he tumbled onto the third floor. He looked up nervously. He knew Snape was at the farthest edges of one of the corridors, but he still searched him out. The light of the filling moon streaked in through the windows and poured across the floors in bands. He ran through the winding corridors, eased into a jog, slowed to a lengthy and hasty stride, shortened to a brisk walk, and then restrained it to a crawling pace.

And then he stopped completely.

"Please! I don't understand all this," came a voice that made James close his eyes tightly. With guilt?

"Give me your answer!" and that was Snape, sounding more than just angry.

"How can I when I don't even know what you're asking me?" the other said, and James vacillated between revealing himself as he hovered outside the door that shielded him from the speakers and tapping into the last wisps of sanity that told him to leave now.

"That act of ignorance is only tolerated so much," Snape said darkly, and James stilled his hand that was on the doorknob. He hadn't even realized he was reaching out.

"Honestly now! What in the world has come over you?" He heard the hurried echo of footsteps and swore they sounded in time with his frenzied heart. Then a muted gasp was sounded, and James could just picture what was unfurling inside the room. The darkness told him to act, but his nerves kept him still. "Severus?" the voice said feebly.

"You used to—I know you did—What I felt for—what I _feel_ for you—You used to feel, too," James heard Snape whisper, and he clutched at his chest. Of all times to be a coward it was now?

"Severus…"

"Stop biding your time. Tell me now. I need to know!" Snape demanded, and then James heard the rustling of robes, the scuffling of footsteps, and someone thudding to the ground. _Dear Merlin!_ James cried within his head as he swallowed hard, thinking the worst was happening inside.

"Don't touch me, Snape, or I'll curse you where you are now!" the voice shrieked, and James hushed his breathing so he could hear better. "You want my answer?" and the voice thinned. "Then I'll tell you—"

"No…" he heard Snape sound. James pressed his ear against the door, but he only heard the throbbing within him amplified. He pulled back.

"What? But you asked me to!" the voice taunted. James had never heard this voice sound like this before.

"No," Snape said again. "I don't want to hear this. I don't need to hear you validate what I already suspect." There was a long pause, a silence that stretched out agonizingly until James wondered if there were even people still in the room. Then he heard a sigh, a weak and trembling sigh.

"Why did you bring me here? What did you think was going to happen?" the voice asked softer.

"I don't owe you an explanation at this point," Snape said, and James marveled at the softer undertone. It was pitiful, almost. "But let me tell you this…" Snape began quietly, "…you can't choose _him_ either."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about— and you can't choose him," Snape said sharply, and James stilled once more. They were talking about him, right?

"You can't decide things like that for me," the voice bit back.

"I'm only warning you. Think of it as a favor from an old friend," Snape said coldly.

"Please, Severus. What is it with you two?" the voice asked. There was another stretch of silence, and James wanted to know what expression Snape was wearing as he pondered the question put to him. Was it absolute loathing? Anger? Indifference?

Disgust?

"I don't know how to answer…" Snape responded at last, and James felt his spine snap into a rigidity that was almost painful. He had not expected such an answer, and definitely not one that was so devoid of…

…hate.

"You're just jealous of him aren't you?" the voice asked spitefully.

"Please… why kick me when I'm down?" Snape asked blandly.

"You used to mention how you thought he was… cool. And how you wished—"

"I won't deny that I was… inspired by his… unbridled way of doing things," Snape cut in mercilessly, and James wished he could rip his heart out a put it someplace where it would just shut it for a bit, "but that admiration— as you've so implied— quickly waned when I realized that his unrestraint was just flippant disregard for all others."

James didn't want to hear this. He wanted Snape to make a confession of a different kind, even though James was well aware of how undeserving he was of it. The guilt unwound from the darkness within him and clawed at his gut, but still… he didn't want to hear this.

"I'll admit he takes things too far—" the voice started up.

"Too far? You're right about that," Snape interceded venomously. "Since day one he started in, and he's never let up. Don't you wonder why that is?" Snape asked coldly. The other did not speak, and Snape must have taken it as encouragement to continue because he then answered his own question.

Again, James closed his eyes.

"Because he's deeper in the murk than I am. I hope you know that."

It was true. James was not so naive to where he could deny such a thing any longer. But still…

"He is not, Snape. He's… he's wonderful." James did start just a bit at such a declaration, but not from gratitude or relief. It was just pure shock. Snape must have found it so as well.

"…we must not be talking about the same James Potter then," Snape said deadpanned after a moment.

"I certainly don't think we are."

"Then you don't know him like I do."

It was stupid to feel such a thing just then—it wasn't by any means or stretch of the imagination an enduring statement, but still— James felt his face grow warm, and he rested his head upon the door hoping the wood would siphon away the heat from him. No such luck.

Did Snape really know him?

"I can't deal with you to this extent," the voice rushed out angrily. "Just leave me alone if this is the kind of thing you're to continually throw at me!" And not knowing why, but James ducked into the adjacent room quickly as he heard the doorknob jangle. He left his door barely ajar as the other across from him flew open. He peeked through the crack, and the first thing he saw was Snape sitting back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, his face contorted into something ugly and bitter. Then James flicked his eyes on the form that was leaving.

He used to love the sight of her walking away—her red hair billowing behind her in ways that James swore was aided by magic—but now, as he stepped from out behind the door, as he watched the girl he had once swore to make his forever leave… he turned to Snape and consequently turned his back to Lily Evans.

He spoke before Snape had realized he was there.

"I'd say tough break, but I think we were all expecting that to happen," James forced out as calmly as he could though his legs were shaking slightly. But he must not show Snape this. Snape didn't even turn his head to look at him or acknowledge him even being there. He continued to stare up, and James wondered if Snape was about to blast the roof away. He took a step forward when Snape snapped his hand up bracingly, and James did as he was wordlessly told. He stopped. Slowly, Snape let his hand return to the ground beside him.

"What gets me is that… you don't even love her," Snape said, and he could have been talking to anyone, his voice was so devoid of emotion- though his expression proclaimed otherwise.

"How can you be so sure?" James asked suddenly, feeling his old stubbornness return willfully. His head was an absolute mess, but still he could spew forth this same kind of obstinacy? Wonders, eh? Snape closed his eyes for just an instant. James supposed that was all the time the Slytherin needed to reign in whatever revealing emotion was left, for when he opened them again and fixed them upon the stock-still Gryffindor, they were but vacuous pools of black.

James felt a tremor run up his spine.

"You don't love her," Snape reiterated once more. "You need her—"

"Snape, come on! You know—" but James was cut off as Snape slowly stood, his black eyes still fixed upon him.

"You need her so she can pacify that bitterness in you—" Snape continued.

"I'm not bitter—"

Snape took a step closer. "Without her who do you have left that can negate that gloom inside, right?"

"Look, I was only kidding in the hospital wing about that stuff—"

"—Because Black is like a sickener for you, isn't he?" And closer still.

"Why bring Sirius into this?"

"—And Lupin is too meek to withstand your level of malice—" Another step.

"I am never malevolent towards Remus—"

"—and that rat-faced friend of yours is nothing but a sycophantic leech—" and James took one tentative step back.

"And like a stark little shadow like you has any business lecturing me on shit like this—"

"And so who is left but Lily?" and Snape was too close for comfort, and James felt himself wanting to coil away. Why had he come here?

"Back the fuck off, Snape!" he said forcefully.

And Snape did stop, a hand's reach away, his thin frame somehow as imposing a looming Dementor. James certainly felt like something of his was being sucked away. Snape stared at him indiscernibly for a second more, and James willed his body to not shrink away from it.

"You need her so you can feel normal."

And that was it—a piece of something he hadn't realized was missing snapped into place with a sickening click, and James understood what it had meant. Snape did know him. He… understood him.

"Then what about you?" James asked quietly, feeling light headed with the realization. "It's the same for you, isn't it?"

"Don't even compare my situation to yours," Snape bit.

"No, your right," James began calmly, and he raised his head so that he, too, could fix Snape with his own severe look. If Snape could claim to understand James, then he could for Snape as well! "For you, she's the last vestige to that time when you were possibly happy, right?" he asked evenly, and Snape flinched. James stood straighter. "She's the embodiment of your better memories—of when you were first accepted—"

"Please, Potter. This dredge that comes out of your m—"

"—by anyone, but look what happened Snape? She turned on you, too—"

"—You can not manipulate me, Potter, like I can you."

"—and who do you have left?"

"Unlike you, I don't need—"

"And you say I'm in denial? I think you do want someone. Why else—" and James was beginning to falter. The image of Snape in the library right after James had admitted what he had done filled him with unease. But James was always too reckless. "Why else would you have not noticed my hand on your leg?" he crocked out. Snape stilled, and his face paled.

"That-that means nothing!" he hissed virulently.

"Then why didn't you feel it? How could you not have? Unless—"

"Just shut your mouth, Potter!" Snape cried. He was shaking slightly, James saw, but then the Slytherin tilted his head as he closed his eyes. James watched in awe as Snape went from a trembling anger to a quiet seething to being just still. Then Snape opened his eyes, and James inhaled sharply as the dark irises and even darker pupils stared back at him, their blackness only echoing was James already felt lapping at his insides. "Believe me, Potter. I hate you, and will hate you—" Snape began, his voice as steady as the ground, but James could sense the quicksand he was really standing atop.

"—until the end of our days."

James exhaled forcibly, and the relief from breathing did nothing to soothe the sick that rushed in.

"And what? You love her so much?" James whispered harshly, his voice ugly even to him. Snape's brows rose a fraction, but at this point, it could have just been James' demented mind seeing what it wanted to see—a sign that Snape, even at this point, could be thrown off his guard. "She loves me, you know. You heard her then, right?" And it was James' turn to step forward. Snape took one back. "She says I'm wonderful, and how could you argue against the girl you _love_ so much, hmm?" James pushed forward, and Snape eased back.

"You don't understand anything—" Snape began, but James' wouldn't hear any of it—Didn't want to hear any of it. Lily didn't understand Snape any more than she claimed to understand him. How could Snape not realize this himself? He would provoke the Slytherin because he knew not what else to do. Getting a reaction out of the boy was the only thing he could manage at this point, and if he happened to get Snape so angry that the boy snapped—

Well, he just hoped that Snape would come to realize what James already understood.

The darkness was in both of them, and Lily could never understand _it_— Not just him and not just Snape—but _it_.

And James would squelch this guilt—this need—

…this want…

"Then why don't you prove to me just how much you _feel _for her."

And that was it.

The thing that sent Snape over the edge where James had already been falling for quite some time.

"I saw her first," Snape hissed through his clenched teeth. James didn't say anything, couldn't say anything. "I saw her first," and Snape took a step towards him, "I knew her first," and Snape was almost right on him, "and I loved her first."

James felt his breath rushing out of him in a single exhale, but still he could say nothing. Snape bared his teeth and grabbed James' collar suddenly. He pushed him back until he slammed him against the wall, and James felt the pain raining down his spine, making him close his eyes from the severity. But nothing felt as bad as what he felt inside, deep within that pool of swirling darkness.

"Will the lion not roar his protests?" Snape spat scathingly, a little of his spittle hitting James' cheek. Severus' words hissed and burned, and James felt them, felt them as if they were daggers ripping across his belly.

Snape pushed him even further into the wall. James couldn't withstand the glare those black eyes held, the accusation, and he didn't like seeing the distorted reflection of himself within them. Snape snarled.

"Say something you putrid fuck," he whispered against James' ear, and again James couldn't find any words. "Say something!" he yelled as James felt the boy's grip trembling against his neck.

"Yes," James said slowly, so quietly it could have been the passing of his breath. Snape reeled his head back, and his eyes widened slightly. "Yes," James repeated, feeling something shatter within him. Snape's brows furrowed, and his jaw tightened. "Yes," James uttered again softly, and Snape broke along with him.

Snape let his forehead drop unto James chest as he held unto his collar.

"Yes," James said again, tilting his head back despairingly, and he no longer knew who he was saying it to. To Snape? To himself? To Lily? To that feeling within him? Before he knew what he was doing, he enfolded his arms around Snape's hunched shoulders. The Slytherin pushed James even further into the wall like he was intent on crushing him into the stone, and James tightened his hold, pulling Snape further into his chest, into him.

"Severus," James whispered, and it felt wrong to do it. Snape's breathing stopped for a moment, and James felt something pound one forceful beat against his chest before the boy began to breathe again. There was something so delirious about having Snape's expanding and falling chest push into his own—having Snape's warm breath pool against his neck until his own skin felt moist with it.

"Severus," he said again, and this time it didn't feel so much like a sin.

"Shut it, Potter," Snape demanded caustically against his jumper. James smiled, smiled because he felt so defeated— defeated against the current that crashed over him, swept under him, twirled him, knocked both breath and reason out of him like he was merely nothing…

He felt like nothing.

Knew he was nothing.

He needed to find something, that something that could make his legs steady again so he could fight the torrent overtaking him.

He burrowed his face into Snape's neck. He inhaled a smothered breath that smelled of the other and which gave him so much more than any intake of fresh air ever had— like taking in the heat of the sun directly, scorching both lungs and heart.

"Severus." He exhaled the name like it was a spell to exhume the shadows within him— as if it were a charm to exalt his worth.

He didn't know when strength had failed him and when he and Snape had come to lay crumpled together upon the cold, unforgiving, stone floor. He didn't know when he had begun to repeat Snape's name like a mantra as he pulled off the boy's cloak. He couldn't know when he had pushed Snape down so that his black hair fanned around his face— couldn't know when he had come to straddle the withering boy under him…

He did know, however, when he had started to become so entranced by Snape's—by Severus' parted mouth that he felt something tighten in his belly, felt his heart jerk inside its cage of bones.

Severus began breathing hard and dissonantly beneath him, and James watched with hazy focus as the boy closed his own eyes. Leaning down, James kissed the spot right above the lid of his eye, and then he left another and another, the delicate gesture making his heart pound painfully within him. It thudded viciously with each touch of his lips against Severus' skin, hammering unbearably in his chest like it was chipping away at his insides.

But he couldn't stop himself.

He trailed his lips down Severus cheek and kissed him there. He ghosted his mouth across Severus' flustered face and then paused to hover right above Severus' own lips.

He knew he shouldn't— knew it just as strikingly as he knew his heart was about to burst from his chest— but he couldn't control himself. He bent down and felt his own breath mingle with the Slytherin's. Then he touched his lips to the one laying underneath him just barely. He left them there, their two mouths scarcely together, savoring this intimacy like he had never before experienced with anyone.

"Fuck you, Potter," Severus spat venomously, and then he lifted his head and made the connection complete. James couldn't even wander at the sheer oddity that it was Severus who had been the one to kiss him fully before his mind grew fuzzy again. He moaned into Severus mouth, their tongues languidly brushing against one another, the air around them sweltering and pleasant.

His lowered himself until his abdomen was flushed with the other's. Severus tried to lift himself up with his elbows— James felt the opposing weight as it made Severus' tongue go further into his mouth— but James grabbed both the boy's arms swiftly and forced them above his head. Severus fell back again. James locked the two wrists together with one hand as his other wrapped around Severus' neck, feeling that vein throb erratically against his fingertips.

James broke the kiss, leaned up slightly, and relished at the sight of Severus, flushed and captive. But he couldn't resist long. He grabbed Severus under the jaw, and titled the boy's head up slightly, leaving perfect exposure to that pulsating point in his neck. James sucked at it and smiled against it when he heard Severus hiss.

His mind was reeling and soaring to someplace where he knew he may not ever be able to get it back. Like a snitch glowing gold against the sun, so were his thoughts, but he didn't want to reach out and capture it. He wanted it to fly so high it broke past cloud, sky, and earth.

After leaving Severus' neck bruised and red, he moved to the boy's collarbone. Severus was digging his nails into the hand that kept his arms locked, but James only sucked in air as they clawed. James moved back up to the spot on Severus' neck, and bit down, not enough to draw blood but enough to leave his teeth marks and enough to gain another hiss from the boy. Severus then retracted his nails from atop James' hand while James clumsily began to try and loosen the boy's tie and collar.

When he had finally managed to get enough buttons undone, he bowed his head to the bare skin. Not knowing why, he swept a trail from Severus' collar up to his ear with his tongue. He could taste salt and sweat, and— whether he imagined it or not— the faint, sweet smell of a Drosera, and he liked it.

He wanted to know what else Severus could taste like, so he nibbled on the lower part of his ear. James felt his mind slosh inside his head when he heard Severus moan. It was maddening! He closed his eyes to savor both the taste and sound of the boy and to commit it to what ever mind he had left like a lyrical sonnet worth knowing, worth having, worth memorizing.

"Potter," and Severus sounded needy and impatient, but James wouldn't comply. Again he trailed his tongue up the heated skin, up his cheek to his temple. He kissed him there, where the perspiration was greatest and had collected like tiny droplets of water. His hand that gripped around Severus' wrists felt clammy and slippery and like at any moment, his grasp would falter.

He let go of Severus' arms, and skidded his hand down the length of one limb, over the boy's shoulder, and onto the boy's chest. He slipped a hand under the jumper and white shirt and slid it across the bare chest.

It was hot, so hot, so irrationally hot…

But it wasn't enough. James needed to feel more. He grabbed the hem of the boy's jumper, and forcefully, heedlessly, pulled it over his head. He greedily began to unbutton Severus' shirt, but it was taking too long, and his sweaty fingers slipped of the slick buttons too much. James reached for his wand in his pocket and felt a brief twinge of pain as Severus' eyes widened unbelievingly at the sight of it.

"_Diffindo,_" he intonated.

Severus' shirt ripped apart, seams tore and buttons flew, and James felt a constrict in his lower belly as he beheld Severus' pale flesh.

He kissed him everywhere, hungrily, anywhere he could grace his mouth upon Severus' skin. Everything was so smooth against his mouth. James wanted to say Severus' name one more time, say it and feel it just as he's was feeling the boy's body— wanted to feel it just as completely.

But he wouldn't.

Not again— not when Severus hadn't called out his name yet.

James didn't know if it was the heat or Severus' panting or the sensation of flesh as he raked his nails down Severus' belly that made himself shake. Conscious decisions, rational thinking, and logic… All was lost, and James succumbed to the madness, to the darkness within him that seemed to shiver with mirth and glee.

Something stilled his hand for just a moment, his fingers twitching above the button to Severus' trousers, until that agonizing surge of warmth wracked his body, and James undid everything— Severus' clothing— his own— all with need and desperateness. Then… then Severus was fully exposed to him— pale skin glowing eerily under the bluish light of the moon snaking in through the high windows above. It was like beholding the embodiment of a werewolf transformation, bounded within flesh. It made James feel crazed, wild, and so unlike himself… looking at Severus.

And it made his body quiver with trepidation and want.

James lowered himself, and he felt the warmth of Severus' pulsating length against his own. James heard his breath escape him in one, powerful rush, felt his own length throb upon the contact. Severus lifted his hips slightly making them rub together again. The friction was too intense for James, and he thought he was going to utterly loose himself right then and there.

Somewhere in the chasms of his mind, where the darkness bred and flourished, James knew he wanted so much more. It was as if he was so thirsty that the only thing that could quench his yearning was by drinking the poison spread out under him. Licking it up, letting it burn it's way down his esophagus, letting it inebriate him so completely that it made his blood turn to liquid fire, burning him from the inside out…

—Letting it kill him slowly.

And he wanted it so fucking badly.

Here, on the cold floor, flesh flushed with flesh, James knew that he was whole— whole because he was bringing all those parts of himself that he denied to the blue light that encased their bodies— Whole because he had no pretenses right then and there about who he was— Whole because he wasn't denying that the only way to satiate his unbearable hunger was to be with Severus.

And he was whole because when it was all over, James would be nothing again.

He smiled bitterly, and he bit down below Severus chest. This time he did draw blood, and he could feel his own skin tear open and bleed as well when Severus dug his nails into his back and ran them down his spine. He licked up the blood bubbling over Severus' wound like it was an arsenic ambrosia, the taste bitter, like metal.

Severus bucked his hips up again, and they grazed against each other forcefully.

"Fuck— Severus—" James shouted harshly, shaking against Severus' member.

He blundered. He had called out the Slytherin's name after he had told himself not to. Severus couldn't do this to him— make him shout his name like it was release.

James separated and pushed down on the other boy's thighs until Severus knees were almost touching the floor, until the position was just lewd enough for James to feel his body quake and shudder upon looking at him. James watched as Severus tried to lift his hips again but couldn't. He smiled.

Slowly, agonizingly, James bent down and began kissing Severus above his navel. James then brought his mouth over the dip in the boy's belly and then brushed his tongue across the boy's suppliant skin. James left light kisses as he moved down and down, over a small trail of black hair and lower still.

Severus' breaths were becoming more erratic and ragged, and James felt the boy's abdomen rise and fall quickly under his hand.

"Mmm," James hummed, moving lower.

"Dammit, Potter," Severus growled as he flung his head down lightly unto the stone floor, making a muffled thudding sound.

It should never have been. It should have never come to this. James had been more than content to satiate his boredom with petty words and insults flung Severus' way. He had felt triumph at continually overtaking one who he had had always known was a filthy Dark Arts lover. He had been the constant victor for winning over Lily's affection and attention though, yes, he knew, Severus had cared for her for so much longer than he.

When did the need to overrule Severus turn into want of him?

It should have never happened, yes, but James was weak and tempted— wanting like he never had before— and so…

…he took Severus within his mouth.

Severus inhaled harshly as James flitted his tongue over the other boy, and he gasped before turning his head towards the stone floor and moaning. James moved up and down, trying to mimic the way that felt good for him when he masturbated. He licked and sucked and continued to take the other into his mouth, waiting amidst Severus incoherent babbling for his named to be called out.

But then Severus gave a spasm, and no name escaped his lips. No. Severus had bitten down on his lower lip, clamping his mouth shut, and James had to swallow the other in childish resentment. It wasn't fair. James snarled and lifted Severus legs up and over his shoulders.

He was already on the verge of release— all because of the way Severus looked— all wilted, red, bitten, swollen, languid, and satisfied. Could James not get enough? Sweat beaded down his nose and the side of his face. He didn't think he had ever been so warm in all his life, not even when he had flown his highest on the hottest days of summer, when he could have sworn he was mere inches away from the sun itself.

His member ached and throbbed, and it was mere torture for James to not take Severus right then and there. At first Severus resisted the intrusion, but even James knew that he had to relax the boy before entering him completely. When he did, though— when he did… James stopped because he had never felt anything like it.

Not in all his boy hood fantasies of Lily had he ever felt such a thing, all of which could not even compare to the intensity of what he was experiencing with Severus. James moved and rocked, any way that felt good, any way to make Severus moan like he was doing. His head was roaring, his heart racing, his insides cackling and shrieking—

The darkness in him singing its exultant praises…

"Gods!— James!" Severus huffed beneath him as the boys nails tore into James' shoulders.

Delirious, James kept responding to the lust that had completely consumed him. Then Severus cried out again and arched his back, meeting the last of James' urges before the sensations swelled too greatly for James to endure.

And then he felt such a completion that it hollowed out his insides. A feeling that intensified within him, and pushed and pushed and expanded out, expulsing every other emotion out of him until he was only left with that singular sensation. He shuddered against Severus— emptied himself into Severus, and with it, that feeling. Then he collapsed onto him, his cheek pressing against Severus' warm and heaving chest, and he was tired, shaking, and sensing only a void within.

James had never experienced emptiness before.

They laid in silence, neither of them moving, but each trying to control their rasped and frenzied breathing. Severus had yet to let go his shoulder, but James didn't mind. He couldn't really feel it anyway.

Severus mumbled something through his clenched teeth, and James smiled.

"Yes," James said softly as he closed his eyes and curled his fingers around Snape's shoulder. "Until the end of our days."

* * *

A/N: I don't think our boys here quite understand what just happened; their relationship (if we can call it that) is so convoluted. And this story is by no means over! Just thought I'd put that out there for those of you who thought this might have happened too soon. I can justify this, trust me!


	10. The Aftermath

Hope everyone enjoys… It's more of a reconciliation chapter than anything… and not between Snape and him… In fact… I'm sure this chapter will just annoy most! Sorry!

**Chapter 9: The Aftermath**

Severus had left some time ago, wordlessly and without a second look back. James, though, had just sat there, staring out into the passage that stretched far before him, unblinkingly. The only thing he felt then was the cool draft of the corridor brush against his heated and sweat-coated skin, and he was grateful he felt nothing more than that.

He just wished his mind could be numb, too, because he didn't want to see Severus any more, not when Severus had walked away. But there he was, still lingering in his mind, the boy's body contorting to meet James' every wish and will. James sank further against the wall and wondered as he envisioned Severus if this is what apostasy was.

Time wasn't passing for him as he sat in the darkened hall. It was just an instantaneous transition from one moment to the next- one moment of him and Severus together to the next of breaking away. One moment of sitting in darkness to leaving his night post for morning… for a new day. His limbs were stiff as he walked, his back and thighs sore and aching, and the tendons of his calves tingled as the blood rushed back to his legs.

Then he felt again.

He stumbled into the wall and grazed his arm and shoulder. He tried to hold onto the wall for support, to keep himself upright, but there was nothing there to grasp onto. He slid against the wall and sank down onto his knees as every sensation came rushing over him again, swarming across his entirety. It burned like a fire and bit as his skin with icy teeth. It crawled atop him, slashed at him, pounded upon him, and railed inside him.

It left him breathless and weak and… insufficient. Incomplete.

He clutched at his chest because that's where it tore at him most deeply. The darkness was eating at him, feasting upon him until it would leave a gap, a gap of where his truest self should be- the part that had been unsoiled and uncorrupted for so long now. The one place he had left, his final sanctum.

But Severus had taken it.

Now James was rotting from the inside out, decaying until there was nothing good of him anymore.

He laid his forehead up against the grainy walls, his glasses pushed askew, and he concentrated on steadying his erratic breath. His chest was heaving, laboring against the darkness that was running amok, and he wondered when he'd be allowed to feel normal again. He wondered if Severus felt normal anymore.

He closed his eyes again.

And why did the Slytherin have to be so vivid behind his lids just then?

He smiled to himself, but it was a pitiable thing—a gruesome malformation of what a smile should be. James had never been so reckless in all his life. He'd find it comical if he wasn't so unsettled inside. And how was that Severus had been able to just leave him here? Seemingly unaffected, untouched… unchanged?

He steadied himself back to full height and trudged the rest of the distance from this very far away corridor and back to the Gryffindor tower. It probably took him much longer than it should have, but what did he care? As long as Filch or Peeves weren't around, he was in no rush. He wondered what time it was when he awoke the Fat lady and mumbled the password. Most likely very late by her replying yawn and reproachful stare, but as he climbed through the portrait hole and felt the picture slam close behind him, he found that he didn't care much about anything at the moment. He crossed the common room where the lingering smell of smoke from the put out fire filled the room, and he heaved himself up the stairs and opened the door to his dorm.

There were no lights on, say but for the thin strands of moonlight that peeked through the partly opened drapes, and James found that his eyes had adjusted rather well to the dark halls of Hogwarts so that he could navigate his way through the very familiar room with great ease. He knew where to step so the rhubbish that was strewn across the floor would not trip him. He knew how to ease his way onto his bed at just the right spot so that the mattress did not protest too loudly. He certainly didn't have to light any lumos charm so find the table to put his removed glasses upon. He did all these things, stealthily and with great care, so as not to wake those sleeping around him, and still he heard a soft creaking.

"James?"

And he closed his eyes and told himself to not feel too embittered by this. Afterall, Remus only ever tried to look after his mates.

"Yeah... it's me," he said quietly, evenly. There was a pause, and he allowed himself to hope that his friend had fallen back asleep-that his friend's call to him had only been a reflex brought upon by the wolf's instincts inside him-but he dashed such wishful thinking when he sensed Remus moving in his bed. And he tried to calm his riling blood when he heard Remus moving his off said bed and making his gentle way over to him. Remus couldn't be blamed for this-James knew that-but still...

He just wanted to be left alone.

"What happened earlier?" And James shifted unto his other side, the side where Remus had come to stand next to his bed. Remus was only doing what he did best, he tried to tell himself; he was only looking after his mates.

"Nothing, really..." he lied, his mind trying to function as images of Severus came rushing back.

"You sure about that? You seemed awfully... worked up," Remus said delicately. James resisted the urge to snort. Worked up was an understatement. Perhaps when things cleared up, he should go get himself examined to see if there was some new and more disastrous strain of were-ism that he had caught. James had certainly felt as though something had possessed him earlier...

Of course that's what he told himself as he shifted into a sitting position to better regard Remus, but he knew better-will always know better.

"Don't worry about it-I just... had a falling out with someone with whom I needed to... make amends with," James said quietly, and he ignored the gentle surge of his heart at the truth the words really meant. He kept it as vague as possible, hoping Remus would fill in the rest with something he could agree to without further explanation.

"You mean Lily?" Remus ventured, and that was exactly what James had been counting on. He nodded, and Remus gave a knowing smile-or what he believed to be a knowing smile-and James did not correct it. He smiled back tersely and hoped Remus was done with him. "I hope you asked her out good and proper, James. You certainly lack gentlemanly qualities," his friends snickered before he returned back to his own bed. And James watched his faint silhouette blend all the more with the shadows around until Remus was tucked contentedly back under his covers. His friend would never know how true his last joking jab had been. He did lack gentlemanly qualities, or else he wouldn't have just jumped...

But he squelched the thought and fell asleep.

* * *

He awoke the next day to bright and blaring sunlight. At first he panicked, thinking he had overslept, but one glance at the clock and at the trio of still sleeping forms around him told him he was actually up earlier than was healthy. He contemplated knocking himself out again with a Slumber Curse, but one clamorous snort from Peter blew that idea away, and he labored himself out of the comforts of his bed. He lumbered over to the adjacent loo, a change of clothes in tow, and fixed himself up as best he could without actually showering. That was probably very gross of him, considering last night and all, but though he certainly had enough time to bathe, he didn't want to. It wasn't because he was being sickeningly sentimental about last night, wanting to keep whatever lingering smell of Severus there was left on him, he just simply didn't feel like. And besides, if he did shower just then, it was likely he'd be through just as the others would be waking, and he'd like to avoid that awkwardness at all cost.

Finishing the last of primping spells a man was allowed to perform, he tiptoed out of the loo and out the dorm. To his relief, the commons were also abandoned of any early risers. Thank Merlin he lived in the Gryffindor House where very few found it necessary to be a follower of the cliché _early to bed, early to rise_. He slipped out of the tower.

As he walked within the deserted halls of Hogwarts, he couldn't help but thinking that maybe… he should have just stayed in bed for the day. He's skipped classes before, so what was skipping a whole day going to do? Truly, though, his mistake wasn't getting up from bed—it wasn't even waking up early. It wasn't _not_ washing away last night like an act of ablution, and it wasn't even leaving Gryffindor tower. No, his mistake was in going to the one place he knew Severus would be so early in the day… James didn't think he had ever frequented the library as much as he had the last couple of weeks than he had in all his life.

The whole of the room seemed empty say but for Madam Pince who worked quietly back behind her desk. James found that he rather liked the idea of it being just him and Severus within a room so vast (he could easily disregard the taciturn librarian). He supposed that the thought should alarm him, considering what had transpired between them last night, but... it didn't. More than that... dare he think... dare he feel that he wanted it... again? He strode passed the towering shelves, the myriad books, the empty tables, and navigated back to the corner, to Severus' place of seclusion. Then only one shelf separated him from the studious and quiet Slytherin, and he paused for just one moment, just to fix his hair (no big deal there)—and to straightened his jumper (it was bunching oddly)—and to not appear anything less than composed though his heart was speeding (and that he could chalk up to the brisk walk here)—and then he stepped round the corner and—

James frowned.

Severus wasn't here.

He looked around Severus' little niche as if the Slytherin could somehow manage to hide from him in a space so small, and then he backtracked. He walked the entirety of the library, and once he had cleared each table and section, every nook and cranny, James sighed and admitted to himself that Severus was, indeed, not in the library. So he went to the next likely place—the Great Hall. Upon entering the dining room, there were only a few spattering of students—three at his house's table, two at the Hufflepuff's, and handful at Ravenclaw's, and though Slytherin's had by far the most, as James surveyed them all in turn, not one of them was Severus. He stood there for a minute, looking at the Severus-less table, stupidly staring as if the boy would just _magically_ appear, and only stopped when the Slytherins that were abiding there glared at him ruthlessly. No thanks, he really wasn't in the mood to rattle Slytherin's little nest just then, so he trudged on over to his table and sat down haplessly. An older year by the name of Donna something waved at him enthusiastically from down the way, and James could only manage a nod in response. She looked disappointed by so small a greeting, but James didn't care. After all, it was so early in the morning.

By the end of the day, James was seemingly brassed off with everyone and everything which carried well over into the next day even.

And Remus, the poor chap, was the only one of his mates that was actually trying to amend whatever it was that was tearing them apart, but James wasn't having any of it. Every time the boy tried to approach him on Sirius' issue, what he got was a grunt and a wave of the hand. James was too concerned with another problem.

The damn Slytherin was avoiding him!

James didn't know why he wanted to see-to confront-the Slytherin so badly, but when he was obstructed, outwitted, and foiled from doing so... his frustration had risen to an unhealthy level. There were things he wanted to say to the other, of course, but more than that... More than that he just wanted to... Damn, Severus could not do this to him!

Since last night, a seed had been planted within that darkness that thrived inside of James. And that darkness fostered the growth like it was black soil, and rising up from its depths was a need-a need to seek out this Slytherin. The seed that had split had now sprouted vines and tendrils that were now wrapping themselves around his every bone-his every intent-until all James wanted to do-all he felt he could do- was to pursue the other. But it was impossible to do so!

The prat only ever appeared, and cleverly so, when there was a throng of other Slytherins around him only to then expertly hide away in the one place James could not reach him—the Slytherin commons. The git had even managed to avoid him in Potions, no less! Well, it wasn't really Severus' doing—he hadn't gone and made Slughorn hold a study lesson in class for the test they then took the next day (and all during period!) rendering pairing up moot—but James found a way to blame him anyway. Severus hadn't even looked at him all during those classes, even when James knew the boy could feel the stare he implanted within the Slytherin's back if the nervous twitching was anything to go by. And even after classes let out, James had been thwarted at capturing Severus' attention by Slughorn who called him up twice to congratulate him on his and Severus' remarkable progress with the potion. That miffed James even more who wanted to tell Slughorn that he could have at least called Severus up here with him thereby giving James the opportunity he needed, but it seemed the forces of the universe were working against him. Severus had slipped passed him once again.

Presently, James was hunched over his beloved and vexing map atop his bed, staring down onto it discontentedly, his eyes fixed into an unblinking resolution, but then again, the little dot bearing the name he so avidly watched was not moving either. It wasn't until Remus was standing in front of his bed and repeating his name a fourth time that James blinked the dryness out of his eyes and acknowledged the other. _And here it comes again, _James thought, rubbing at his left eye. Remus surveyed him calmly before his eyes drifted down to the map gripped tight within James' hands.

"You know, if you hadn't blown up on her earlier, she probably wouldn't be hanging around with that Allen fellow again," Remus said suddenly, and James tensed. His mate was, of course, referring to the debacle after Transfiguration earlier in which Lily had approached him, all demure and lovely as usual, and had tried her damnest to get him to notice her, but in her efforts, she had cut off James who had just been about to grab Severus' arm—the Slytherin had stopped to talk to Malfoy—and the other boy had gotten away again. Then after that, it was just a spectacle, really. He wasn't particularly loud, per say, but he had been rather vicious. He thought he remembered telling her go get flattered by someone else who had more time just then. And it did sting him a little to think of that beautiful face scrunching up into sadness, but he hadn't meant it. She had just caught him at the wrong time and most definitely at the wrong moment. His frustration had been building wildly until it had simply snapped free of him. It snapped when his hand had been halted mere inches from Severus, and she had just been caught in the crossfire of it.

James allowed himself to sigh just then, knowing the gesture would be misconstrued as a guilty admittance from Remus who always saw the best in everyone and in everything they did. He had not been staring at Lily's name whose bubble was very closely crammed next to Allen's, but had instead been watching Argus-eyed over one of the Slytherin dorm rooms. But Remus didn't need to know that… And like James had known he would, Remus smiled softly at him and then plopped down next to him making the mattress bounce James slightly. "You know she'll forgive just about anything you do," Remus laughed, and James forced out a terse smile.

"I dunno, mate. I'm sure there are plenty of things I can't be forgiven for," he said quietly, and damn if he wasn't talking about Lily again!

"If she hasn't given up on you yet, after all the stupid stunts you've pulled, then I'm positive she won't now," Remus offered. James looked at him through his periphery, his vision of his friend blurred slightly as his glasses lens did not bend around the side of his face, and he found that he could smile easier when he couldn't distinguish the genuine earnestness his friend looked at him with. He really didn't want to disappoint another person close to him.

"You're too kind to me," James said truthfully, and Remus patted him on the back.

"And don't I bloody well know it," he joked. He hopped off the bed, and James thought he'd be left alone to resume his vigil over the map when Remus turned around. "I know you're probably tired of hearing this from me," he began, and James thought that yes, he rather was, knowing what was coming next, "but there is one other person you need to apologize to. He's leaving tomorrow, in case you've forgotten." But James hadn't. he knew what day it was tomorrow.

"Remus…" James began weakly, but his friend cut him off.

"In all actuality, James, I'm tired, too. I'm tired off being stuck in the middle of it all, all the time, and I don't won't to be forced into choosing a side," Remus stated, and James regarded him thoughtfully. It was very rare indeed when Remus ever took this tone with him.

"You'd choose a side?" James asked. Remus may think he was being pulled in two different directions, but James, for the last couple of weeks, had been very dismissive of all of them and couldn't understand how Remus would have come to this conclusion. James certainly had not been vying for attention, but upon seeing Remus' expression just then, he knew that that wasn't what the other had meant.

"I wouldn't ever do that, but you're forcing me to," he said quietly, and James listened… intently. "You're not talking to him, I know—But by not talking to me either, you're forcing me to loose a friend, too, James, and I gotta say… I don't like it." And Remus looked at him, and James almost forgot how old and wearied his friend could look sometimes. There was guilt there inside of him now, brought upon by only those who were kind, genuinely kind, like Remus. James didn't know what to say. He furrowed his brows, tightened his jaw, and swallowed hard, but he didn't know what to say.

Remus was always really too kind to him.

And then Remus smiled assuredly at him. "Don't worry, James—I know you're too thick to ever really mean any of it," he laughed, and James really did smile then. He threw a pillow at Remus whose reflexes were too sharp too ever be caught too off guard, and he smacked the pillow right into James' face.

"Prat!" James uttered as the soft pillow collided into his face and knocked his glasses askew. Remus shrugged his shoulders. He shifted the pillow down into his lap. "Hey… by the way… when are you going to the uh… Shrieking Shack?" he asked. Remus grinned at him.

"Don't worry, James, like a good little pup I'll return to my crate," Remus said, and James shook his head.

"You are never more morose than when you kid about your lycanthropy," James said. Remus looked unfazed by that, and James supposed that that was just the kind of attitude someone had to adopt when they bore such a heavy curse. And to think that on this night, James had had that dastardly plan in store for Severus… one he'd carry out even without the consent of dear Moony and one that would ultimately make Severus loathe his being more than he must already.

How things had shifted so drastically in just a few short days…

James put his pillow back into place and then edged off the bed. "Say, Moony? Do…uh… do you know where Sirius is right now?" James asked tentatively. Remus looked at him, almost as if in shock because rarely did any of Remus' wise and true words ever sink into his seemingly impenetrable skull, but when the surprise wore off, he grinned.

"You have the map, you know," and James frowned feeling kind of stupid just then, "but he's off on the Quidditch pitch."

"Why's he there?" James asked as he began rummaging through his sprawling mess to find a thicker cloak.

"I dunno, mate… suppose he's taken one of the school brooms for a ride," Remus said as he amusedly watched his friend dart here and there.

"Why doesn't he just borrow mine?" and he got down on all fours to search under his bed.

"Well he wouldn't would he, if he thought you two weren't speaking," Remus explained, and when James looked up at him, his friend was nonchalantly pointing to a spot over by the corner behind Peter's bed.

"Thanks, Remy…" he said as he went to fetch his discarded cloak and meaning it more for his friend's compassion rather than locating his cloak.

"Don't mention it," he said as James threw the cloak over him and fastened it into place. "No really, I mean it— Don't mention it," and James was at the door, blinking at him confusedly. "I hate the name Remy."

And James burst into laughing and went to go find Sirius.

* * *

It took a long while until Sirius came back down again, but James waited patiently. Sirius looped above in lazy circles, and James knew that his friend only did that when he wanted to think about things; otherwise, he'd be zipping back and forth so fast he'd only be a black blur up against the darkening sky. And then his friend touched back down. At first, he didn't notice James or else he was sure his friend wouldn't have… _adjusted_ himself so unabashedly just then. James scratched at his nose and looked off to the side, and Sirius, once he had caught sight of James straightened.

"What do you want?" he asked tersely as he walked passed him. James sighed and turned around to follow behind Sirius.

"Look, I just want to—Uh…will you just hold up for a second?" James called, and Sirius sped up. James rolled his eyes and broke into a slight run until he whirled in front of Sirius and blocked his path. "You can't really ask the question and then not stick around for the answer."

"Sure I can," Sirius bit back, and James resisted the need to snarl. Since when did he snarl anyway?

"I just want to tell you that…" and he exhaled heavily and rubbed at the back of his neck nervously, "—I won't be going home for the holidays." Sirius looked at him as if he had bogies all over his face, expression contorted into shock and confusion and disgust.

"Well isn't that bloody nice for you," he spat. James realized then that he may need to elaborate.

"Look, I know you're… angry at me—I get that, and I get that I don't even know what I did or said to make you mad at me and because of that I can't really properly apologize—It wouldn't mean anything to you otherwise, right?—But I will say this to you. I'm staying here for the holidays." Again Sirius looked miffed that James had decided to waste his time by telling him something so mundane and stupid. James would not falter though. This was too important. He inhaled again and faced his friend unflinchingly.

"I'm doing it because when you decide that living with your family is loads more awful than simply being angry with me—when you decide that and run away… you'll know where to find me."

And that was it- no more embellishment, no more words to drive the point home- because he wouldn't dishonor Sirius by making a spectacle of it. His mate would understand, understand the words' simplicity and would believe them. And then James turned and left because he knew that his mate would not say anything just then. In fact, James resolved himself to thinking that until Sirius rejoined him at this school again, he wouldn't hear him for a long while.

* * *

The next day was a sad affair…

—Not for many of the students, though who were all but rejoicing at the reprieve from school, but just for a collected group of four boys. Sirius still wasn't on speaking terms with James, but that didn't stop the brash Gryffindor from seeing his mates off. Remus was going back home, so was Peter, and Sirius…

All of them were rather quiet.

James hung back from the crowd of students as they all crammed themselves into horseless carriage after horseless carriage. Sirius was hovering just outside one of them which Remus and Peter had already claimed, and James caught the other looking at him quickly from time to time. He'd smile then if he didn't think it make Sirius even more angry with him. Sirius then straightened and looked over at James resolutely. He opened his mouth, and James waited patiently. Then Sirius closed it back, eyes slanting into anger once more, before he shook his head and turned towards the carriage. He put one foot up on the folding step and grappled at the brace to pull himself up and in. He lifted himself and then paused, and still James waited. Again Sirius looked at him before _again_ shaking his head, his shoulder length hair swaying slightly, and then he disappeared into the carriage.

And that was it, James supposed.

He wouldn't get all dramatic and think along the lines of this whole departure being an end to all things… even though he did, and he forced himself to wait longer still, at least until the carriages drifted from view. Then Hagrid was on the scene and standing by the foremost carriage. If James didn't know better, he'd swear that Hagrid was talking to and petting the air, but even that would be a tad bit too mad even for Hagrid. And then James watch as Hagrid slapped at the empty space and then the first carriage advanced. The procession was slow to start, and so the back most carriages (like the one housing his mates) were unmoving for a while longer, but still James would wait. And then Sirius was leaping out of the carriage and making his disgruntled way over to James. James tensed in spite of himself because perhaps Sirius was going to punch him for being a right arse the last couple of weeks, and in that case, like a noble Gryffindor, he would have to take his bitter medicine. He braced himself—Sirius certainly did look incensed—and just as his friend was upon him, James balled his hands into fists in preparation for the blow—Sirius' hand was coming up—And he shut his eyes because Merlin knows when one didn't see it coming it hurt far less—And then…

Nothing.

James opened one eye cautiously, and there Sirius was before him, hand extended, straight and resolute. James relaxed and opened both eyes fully. He smiled then, too, if only because this gesture was a tad bit dramatic on Sirius' part (only James normally did things like this).

"You're an absolute arse, James Potter, but I…" and Sirius couldn't say the rest. James closed his eyes for just an instant, and then he reached out and clasped the offered hand. He knew what Sirius was going to say—what he wanted to say—but pride as a man would never let either one of them say something so cloy as to how they really felt.

"I know," he said simply. "Me, too." Sirius' jaw tightened, as did his grasp, and they looked at each other for awhile longer, possibly looking like a right pair to anyone else that watched, but James didn't care. This was affirmation that though he and Sirius were fighting… they were still family.

They were still brothers.

Then Sirius let go once Remus called out gently for him, his head poking out of the slowly moving carriage, and James' own hand fell limply to his side as Sirius turned around, dashed after the carriage, and nimbly hopped back into it. Remus was smiling at him, and even at his distance, James could see the gratefulness upon its slightly scratched features. He felt bad about that, too, because he was sure no one else had stayed up with Remus last night. But like all other times, Remus forgave him this thoughtlessness as well. He waved at him, and James waved back. And then his mates were gone.

He stood there for a bit longer until it was becoming too ridiculous even for him, and then he turned around.

It was after he had made his way back to Hogwarts as the lone traveler—after he had come to threshold of the castle— that he sensed so familiar a presence. He walked passed the grand doorway and treading across the foyer was none other than Severus. James grinned because no doubt, the boy believed that James, just like all other times, had gone back home for the holidays. So Severus thought he was safe, huh? It took everything he had not to step up to other, but he couldn't… not yet. There were still a small gaggle students left, and he didn't think that making a scene outside the Great Hall was practical.

So he'd wait once more.

He was getting rather good at it, in fact.

Better yet, he'd thought he'd play the tactician and so rushed through and up the castle to his dorm where he fetched his beloved cloak and map. As long as Severus didn't return to the Slytherin commons once he was done with eating, then James was sure he could catch him. Of course, with his cloak in tow, he may just do that too, if Severus gave him no other option. As he threw the cloak on and scrambled out of the portrait hole and ghosted back down to the Great Hall, a most pleasing thought came to mind, one that he felt his lips stretching out to smile from. With his cloak, James was really quite undetectable, and he might as well make this waiting game fun. At least... fun for him.

* * *

A/N: And I know I'm going to have just so much fun with the next chapter!


	11. Snape Baiting

Sorry for the delay on this chapter. Sometimes I feel like every time I get into the groove of writing something comes up to hinder such progress. This time, it was no huge affair or anything, but it certainly was a tedious and taxing situation, one which sucked up most of my free moments. I honestly hadn't realized that much time had passed since my last update. Sigh…

Anywho! A little levity later on (how's that for alliteration?)—to break up the heaviness that's been settling in.

I really did have some fun writing this chapter. I hope you all find it a bit fun as well.

**Chapter 10: Snape-Baiting**

It was something that he had often thought about doing but never did—sitting at his arch nemesis' table. Of course now his reasons for doing so had shifted slightly, but the act was still the same. He trailed across the Great Hall, unseen by all, and he strode passed three of the long dinning tables, unnoticed, and he slipped down next to a particular person, undetected.

And he marveled at his own cleverness.

He stared out through the film that was his cloak and watched avidly as the other ate. He was so close to Severus just then, so close, that if he wanted to, he could move his hand just five inches and touch the other. He had to control his breathing, though, which was speeding up, so he instead used his hand to cup his nose and mouth. Severus was more paranoid than most people, and James was certain that if anyone could ever pick up on his concealed presence it would be him. But at the moment, Severus was none-the-wiser. James watched as the boy dipped his fork down, scrapped it across the plate, collected food within its tines, and brought it up to his mouth. And the food went in and Severus chewed, and then all James could stare at was his lips. He went rigid under the hypnotic way they moved and puffed out to greet the food— the way they wrapped around the fork so that James remembered the other night oh-so-strikingly… And he almost felt his spine snap when Severus licked the corner of his bottom lip…

Damn… his focus was getting a bit hazy, and even he knew it had nothing to do with the gossamer that shrouded him.

Mesmerizing still was the way the Slytherin, when he thought no one was looking, would display emotions that others would take for granted. Those lips of his hooked upward in the corners, most likely out of pleasure from tasting food so delicious— His eyes, though dark as always, were not focused into the sharpened acridity James was so used to seeing, and his face relaxed because when it was just him and three other older years sitting down a ways, that affected disinterest could be retired for just a little while…

And James marveled at his own cleverness.

He leaned in, closer than he possibly should, but as long as he wasn't found out, what harm was there in it? He propped his arm up by his elbow, resting his chin upon his hand that still loosely wrapped around his mouth and nose, and just simply… watched. This went on for some time, until James felt like a right creeper, and then he decided that he should really make use of his cloak. He didn't know what he was doing just that he was doing it. He reached his hand out, stretching it from him, his finger tips lightly pulling at the invisibility cloak until he felt the hairs atop his head sliding along with it, and he hovered it there, a mere flex of the finger away from Severus' cheek.

He really shouldn't—this wasn't having fun, this was being stupid. If he touched Severus, he'd be discovered. He retracted his hand, fisting it as he did so, and frowned. He couldn't use his wand or anything to mess with the other because that required speaking, and speaking meant being heard. Just what had he come here for? James was usually more brilliant about these sort of things, even when they were completely impromptu. As he reflected upon his recklessness, subconsciously the hand that had been about to touch Severus was reaching out once more, only this time, his fingers were crawling along the bench until they brushed against the outside of the other boy's trousers… just barely…

And then Severus stood and James, startled, almost jumped back, but he caught himself before he was able to make a complete arse out of himself.

He fumbled off the bench and thanked the stars that Severus was so oblivious just then that he didn't see James' feet and ankles appearing suddenly when the cloak snagged. He fixed it quickly and rushed after Severus—Damn, the Slytherin was quick!

As he moved, he thought that there was some kind of poeticism to stalking behind Severus… like a shadow no less… Was this irony, perhaps? He didn't know, but he grinned to himself anyway.

He thought the Slytherin would return to his pit where James would then be left with the taxing decision of whether to follow him further or not, but luckily, he was spared from choosing. Severus deviated up the marble staircase, and James had to be oh-so-careful to muffle his clamorous steps. Finally, Severus led him to the third floor, and James wondered what was up here that Severus needed to get to. They walked and walked until they were at the most abandoned section, where classroom after classroom was veiled in dust and grime, decay and desertion—all but one room, that is. James followed after the Slytherin and felt his mouth drop in shock. Severus had converted one of the many useless rooms… into a potions lab, it seemed.

James had never seen so many vials and flasks, cauldrons and pots, and he certainly had never seen all the many odd things that were swimming around in murky liquids, all trapped within jars. There was a vat off in the corner of the room where a faint, luminous light shifted between a pale blue and light green. James watched the colors flit about the room, the light reflecting off the many oddities Severus had acquired, and he was baffled. In the center of the room was a collection of old (and wobbly) desks crammed together to fashion a makeshift work bench, and atop the table was a very large cauldron. Severus had wasted no time, and as James had stood in awe of this discovery, the Slytherin had already gathered many ingredients around him. James tip-toed closer.

He stood behind Severus' shoulder and watched as the other slid a small bloodied mass under the fiercely moving guillotine that was his knife. When the bits were tiny enough, the Slytherin shoved them off to the side and scraped a long stem over in its place. This, too, he chopped, and this, too, he put aside. James stood for so long watching over Severus, but so enthralled was he that he never noticed the dull ache in his stock-still legs. Severus worked tirelessly, not monotonously—fluidly and not mechanically, and the potion changed consistencies, colors, and smells so many times that James lost track. He couldn't be sure if Severus ever made a mistake in any of the one thousand steps he completed—and who was he kidding? Like he was any sort of potions expert—and he figured that at this… the Slytherin never made a mistake. If anything, he only ever enhanced them. After all, Severus was the sort of fellow who had invented several new (and devastating) curses.

Much time had passed before Severus wiped his brow, braced his hands upon the work bench, and sighed out tiredly. But the look of absolute triumph made James' heart catch in his throat. It wasn't the petty glee the Slytherin sometimes showed; it was true, unadorned, uncontained… triumph.

And James marveled at the Slytherin's cleverness.

Lamentably, Severus began tidying up his neatly contained mess. James didn't know why he bothered—when no one else frequented this room, what did it matter if it was a little messy or not? Then again, like the Slytherin's pride would let him do anything else. When the cleaning was done, he watched as Severus moved towards the door. Thinking he was safe, he let out a most unrestrained sigh, and Severus whirled back around.

"I know you're there," he whispered harshly, his black eyes shifting from one empty corner of the room to the next. Oddly enough, his wand was not drawn. James should just be still and silent and then Severus would give up and retire for the night, but then again… why else would he have insisted on sighing so audibly? He wanted to be heard by Severus—he had wanted to be caught. When Severus wasn't looking directly at the space he was occupying, James pulled the cloak from him and let it drop around his feet.

"And I thought snakes could only hear by vibrations," James said as he revealed himself. Severus tensed for a instant, and James saw the look of panic that flashed across the Slytherin's face, his eyes darting to the door as if wanting to flee. But Severus didn't move, and that shock slipped away until he was composed once more.

"Your metaphors for me are really quite cliché," Severus replied, and James was only happy that the Slytherin was even talking to him.

"Say what you will, but they are befitting, right?" he smiled. The expression was tight, but he _had_ to make it clear that he was not… for once—he was not being malicious.

How times have changed…

But Severus wasn't having any of it.

"Why are you here?" he asked, and could James hope to think that it wasn't a means of dismissal? However, he didn't quite know why he was there. Actually, that wasn't true. He had some idea why- a tendril of a reason covered in a thin filament of logic, but really…

… but really…

James leaned against Severus' provisional work table and grinned. "I can give you another cliché answer—I was bored so I—"

"No. That's not what I meant. Why are you here… at school," Severus cut in, and James blinked.

"I… I just didn't go home," he said.

"But why?" Severus kept up.

"Because I didn't feel like it—"

"I doubt that very much."

"Because, in case Sirius came back, I'd be—"

"Likely, but I still don't think that's completely why." Severus studied him, and James strangely felt like he knew what it meant to be under the boy's cutting blade.

"What do you want me to say?" he hushed out, voice weak because in a situation he hadn't accounted on but had very much begged for, he had not a leg to stand on. He knew strikingly well why he was there just then. And did Severus know, too? "Why are you here?" he asked instead. Severus gave a vicious little grin and snorted.

"I never go home when I can help it," he said, and James was surprised to hear such a confession uttered so emotionlessly though the Slytherin's eyes were glinting with a anger he could not comprehend. There was nothing he could say back. There was a stretch of awkward silence in which James diverted his glance until his vision blurred from not blinking. And then he heard something.

"_Why…?_"

And James furrowed his brows. Had Severus just asked him something or was that just the other sighing out in irritation? He cautioned a peek in the other's direction. Severus had closed his eyes tightly as those long fingers of his clenched into fists at his sides, his shoulders rising from the tension. "Why?" the Slytherin asked again, and James heard him clearly this time.

"Why what?" he asked, straightening off the table.

And oh the look Severus gave him then…

If only James was perceptive enough to know what that gentle crease on the boy's forehead meant—what that slight tension in his thinning lips could be saying—what those slightly contracting muscles in the jaw signaled—what the dark eyes all glinting with the flickering blue and green light might be conveying…

"Why did you do it?" the boy hushed out in a harsh whisper. Severus continued to study him, and how could James be expected to answer? So when put on the spot, he deflected.

"Why did you let me?" he tried quietly. Truly, he thought that needed answering first.

"You're impulsive, Potter—irritatingly so—but I don't think you're that…" and Severus trailed for a minute, and James swore he saw the bulge in the boy's throat bob just a little.

"—impulsive…" James finished for him.

"Arbitrary," Severus corrected. And James folded his arms, much like Severus was always so apt at doing. _I don't know, Severus, _he thought maliciously, _I could very well be just that flippant…_

"And you're shrewd and…" —He wanted to say 'paranoid' but didn't think that best at the moment, so he went with—"…cautionary… which makes my question even better." But Severus made no sign of answering as he stared back at the Gryffindor unwaveringly. He felt his stomach knot a little, a sensation he was becoming too annoyingly accustomed to. "I can't answer you," he began reluctantly, and Severus continued to stare. "I can't because… because I don't think it'll satisfy you to hear that I—" and his eyes darted off to the side, anywhere but on the rigid Slytherin, "—that I have no idea why I… _acted_."

Merlin, it was true. He didn't really know why he had, but he… fuck if he didn't want to find out.

Severus looked at him a second longer before turning his focus to the remaining desks that were stacked precariously atop one another in the corner.

"What are you talking about…" Severus began quietly, and James shifted his focus to that corner as well. "It makes perfect sense."

And he didn't care if it had been uttered in contempt or sarcasm or disbelief or cynicism—James was of the disposition, the very stupid, stupid disposition, of accepting that remark as some sort of admittance—of acceptance—because… well… he bloody fucking wanted to.

He walked towards the Slytherin, his footsteps surprisingly quiet, and he wondered if that was by his own volition. Severus was not looking at him, still, but as James neared, the Slytherin closed his eyes gently, those brows of his bunching, until James hovered just before him. He then lifted his hand and graced the tips of his fingers against that pallid neck…

"Don't…" the Slytherin protested, but James felt no force behind the words. He traced his fingers down a long neck muscle as his other hand came to gently enfold around Severus' wrist. He leaned in closer, shutting his own eyes—heart hammering, breath hitching, skin warming—

…that tantalizing, agonizing sensation clustering below his abdomen…

Then he felt something dig in under his chin. He opened his eyes, and Severus was staring at him dangerously. James skidded his focus down Severus' arm to the boy's hand. The boy's knuckles were turning white, no doubt from the tightly gripped the wand burrowing its way into James' skin.

"Don't," the Slytherin repeated forcibly, but like hell James was going to stop now—Not when he was so riled up and incited. He turned his head into Severus, close to the boy's jaw, and parted his mouth just a little… Moving just a little bit closer… just for a little taste…

And the wand was brutally jabbed into him.

"Dammit, Severus!" he exclaimed, straightening and massaging the sharp ache now under his chin. "What does it matter, huh? It already happened!" he declared, his head a frantic mess. "What the bleedin' hell could be so terrible now?" he demanded ironically. As far as he was concerned, the fact that it had happened at all between them was abysmally wretched. And yes, he had told himself that it was only ever going to be that one time, so he could shove it down into the recesses of his mind. That one time should satiate the harbored darkness well enough. But as he stared at Severus' visage, the boy's dark hair falling in fringes around his face, he knew that the hunger of a bottomless abyss was never satisfied. It would feast on anything—everything James would give it, but what it wanted most…

James should not comply. He knew that. He couldn't think about those pale fingers curling around that wand nor the hands they belonged to—the hands that had gripped the hairs on the base of his head that night—had moved down to sink within the skin on his back—had trailed over his shoulders when Severus' climax had been approaching…

It happened, so what could Severus possibly attest to now?

Damn, he was so close to him right now…

The Slytherin lowered his wand, and his voice was so quiet after that. "It could happen again," he hissed scathingly. And fuck if James didn't wilt a little at Severus' contorted expression, though, he had to admit, the fact that the other had been worrying about it occurring again made something burgeon in his stomach until it spread up to his chest. For this reason only, he stepped back, begrudgingly.

"Fine, Severus… I won't approach you any more," he conceded, eyes downcast and half-lidded. From the upper field of his vision, he saw the Slytherin slightly smirking with victory, no doubt feeling a sense of relief for the first time in the last couple of days. Sad really. Severus should know him better by now. James certainly did love a good challenge, so he smirked in turn and fixed the Slytherin with a most haughty look. "I'll just have to wait until you come to me."

And Severus, after the initial surprise wore off, snorted. James thought he may have even laughed if the Slytherin wasn't so adverse to displaying any emotion that could be misconstrued as happy. "That… is never going to happen," he declared, and James' smile widened.

"Then I'll use all my wit and all my charms on you, Severus."

"Well…" the other began, turning towards the door so James could no longer see his face, "…then you'll be spent by tomorrow." And he was gone before James could counter. The git…

_No, Severus_, James smiled as he leaned back against the table and stared up at the web-strewn ceiling, _You were supposed to say you were looking forward to the challenge._ _After all, it's only proper between two opposing wizards to acknowledge as much, right?_

He closed his eyes and smiled like an idiot.

* * *

Trying to make good on his word, James had come to rely heavily upon Severus' predictability—predictability in the sense that the Slytherin had a certain routine everyday, one that did not take James, with the aid of his invisibility cloak, very long to discern.

Every morning, Severus could be found arriving for breakfast at seven-thirty in which he ate what was quickest to consume (usually eggs and toast) before he left for his customarily rigorous (and lengthy) study session in the library. After that, it was off to his lair in which James didn't know what he did (he had yet to find the courage to stalk the Slytherin within his own domain and could only restlessly wait instead), but within an hour's time, Severus would reemerge for lunch before skulking about outside for an hour or so. If he didn't spend the time collecting more Potion ingredients, then it was used as just another opportunity to read. After his bout outside, where James was often baffled by how pale Severus insisted on being even after, the Slytherin went off to his secret Potion's lab. To this Severus dedicated much of his day which always resulted in a missed supper, for so lost in his beloved practice was he that he never even noticed his own hunger pains. It wasn't until the school bell would chime out ten-thirty that Severus would reluctantly peel his focus from his work to ready himself for the day's end, all so he could repeat it for the next. James didn't know if this was just Severus' holiday routine, but he relished at it, knowing it presented him with more opportunities to sway the Slytherin to him. He had promised not to approach the Slytherin in the sense of... not jumping him, but he never said that he wouldn't take a very... proactive course to manipulate the outcome.

So on one particular day, after Severus had finished breakfast, he came to find a very nonchalant Gryffindor at his library table… and worse yet at his seat. James, upon Severus' arrival, could barely contain his amusement as he furtively watched the vexed Slytherin work out how best to handle the newly frustrating hitch that was James Potter. It was only after Severus had hovered for a good three minutes, looking all but anguished and irritated, that James finally looked up from his book and greeted the other.

"Oh! Hullo Severus!" he smiled warmly, and he found it was one of the most effortless expressions ever. "Ah! I appear to be in your way!" he exclaimed affectedly, looking around astounded. He stood up swiftly and stepped from the seat. "Please," and he gestured towards the newly relinquished chair with his hand and a bow of his head. At that Severus only crossed his arms and looked more tempted to curse the chair rather than wanting to take it. James grinned. He picked up his book, snapped it closed in one hand, and strode over to the Slytherin. "McGonagall's essay sure is a doosy, huh?" he commented, stopping beside the Slytherin for just that moment. When Severus said nothing in return, James grinned again and left the Slytherin to his cramming.

He made his way to the front desk, checked his book out, and left the library. He absentmindedly stroked the spine of the book with his other hand thinking that he was a right git. After all, the book he took was one that Severus had been using most for his Transfiguration work. Oh well. All the Slytherin had to do was find him, and James would give him the study tool. But when Severus had yet to seek James out by lunch time, the Gryffindor frowned and prowled off towards the Great Hall.

He sat at his own table, which was to be expected, but he made sure that when he caught the Slytherin's wayward glance over at him to flash his best grin, hoping it was only roguish and charming, while at other times, adding the signature mussing of his hair. Sure it elicited several giggles from the girls in the sight line (and a slight blush from another chap), but did it encourage anything but disdain from the Slytherin? No. So after lunch—James had been too busy acting like a simpering prat to eat anything—he followed Severus outside the castle as close as he could without being detected until he broke from the boy's trail and headed towards the Quidditch lockers. When he was close enough, he _Accio_-ed his broom to him, and then flew off on a course he knew was in Severus' field of vision.

And he knew the Slytherin watched him—just like the other wandering students watched him. And James didn't care if Severus thought his intentions apparent. he also didn't care particularly what the others thought. For all he knew, they still believed that James, the poor bored little Gryffindor, was merely acting on his usual impulse to bother the Slytherin. But as far as Severus was concerned, when James flew, it never failed to impress anyone. He zipped under the sky, racing some unseen opponent, before coming to daring halts that would send a less skilled flyer off their broom. He looped in aerobatic circles, each arc narrowing until the turns were enough to make his head spin. He nose-dived and only jerked his broom up right before the impending impact to skim the ground dangerously. Mere inches from the ground, he neared the Slytherin who pretended to be reading and smirked. He used to do this move a lot, too. Of course it was usually for Lily's entertainment. He'd get so dangerously close, as if he intended on colliding into the person, and then he deviate just as the other would coil in anticipation. Severus looked up, eyes widening slightly, and then James shot upward and sent Severus' robes whipping around along with upswept dirt. He glanced back. Several spectators were cheering…

… Severus had stood and was heading back towards the castle.

Scowling, James pulled on his broom and shot off in the Slytherin's direction. When he was close enough, he lowered until he was able to jump off, the landing ungraceful but camouflaged by his seamless stumble into a jog.

"Don't tell me you hate flying," he said as he skidded into step with the other. Severus didn't even look at him.

"Was that flying just now?" he asked evenly, and James wouldn't think anything stupid like how he missed the other's dry voice. "I thought you were having a conniption up there." And James laughed despite himself which was to his advantage, he thought, as Severus whipped his head around in startled.

"If you don't know the difference between the fits and flying tricks… allow me to teach you," James replied sweetly.

"Don't do that," Severus bit back after a second, and James tensed.

"Do what?" he asked earnestly as they passed under Hogwarts' front doors, and Severus whirled around. James stumbled to a stop before he collided into the other.

"Don't talk to me like I'm one of your whimpering admirers," he scoffed. "You're sadly mistaken." Then he left James on the threshold of the castle to no doubt go mess with his potions. And James considered following him further, but he supposed that was enough self-induced torture for one day. He eventually returned his broom and finished out his day more disgruntled than he'd care to admit.

However, the days after proved to be just as fruitless, even though it wasn't from lack of trying.

James was doing everything he could think of. Wherever Severus went, he was sure to be close by. Each time he was near the Slytherin should have been it, he was certain, but at each and every moment Severus had remained, most troublingly, unmoved. The Slytherin was obstinate, it seemed, but James was proving to be just as stubborn... or just as thick. Of course, he could cry out in frustration just thinking of all the ridiculous things he had done recently.

He had completely bombarded Severus' daily routine with his presence. If Severus was in the library, James was there, too, wandering in and out of the other's sanctum in pretend pursuit of books while throwing out comments and smiles here and there- advice, too, though the other never asked for it and would often refute it, the words 'simpleton' and 'dunce' usually following thereafter. No matter.

When the Slytherin was in the Great Hall, James, of course, would follow. At first, he just sat at his own table, and would only accidentally bump into the other when Severus was entering or leaving. But as of late, James wasn't satisfied by the disadvantage the distance caused, and because his bollocks were as big as he was confident (or stupid), he then began sitting at the Slytherin table. Always quite a sight, really, though he drew little pleasure from the shocked and affronted expressions of the remaining Slytherins. Even the bemused ones casted his way from the other Houses interested him little, not when Severus would barely even acknowledge him. James would smile and greet the other amicably, but the most he had ever received from the Slytherin was, _'Dear Merlin—Not again, Potter. I could barely stomach your presence last time.'_ Then he would just ignore him or leave altogether. Still, James persisted.

When he saw him in the hallways, he would call out to him. One time, when the Slytherin's arms were laden with books and scrolls, James gallantly offered assistance. This Severus refused, but James didn't take no for answer. He levitated a majority of the load into his arms and only smiled when the Slytherin eyed him suspiciously. He carted them all the way down to the dungeons where Severus eventually snapped them back from him. James hadn't cared that Severus had left looking miffed and annoyed. When he had taken back his possessions, their fingers had brushed together just slightly. That had carried him through the rest of that day well enough.

The next day, when James had been particularly arrogant, he had waited for the Slytherin outside the Great Hall. After lunch had concluded, out came the Slytherin. He didn't noticed James leaning up against the wall just a couple feet away and subsequently could not possibly anticipate what occurred next. James, with his wand already in hand, quietly intoned the Trip jinx and Severus went forward suddenly. Luckily, James was at the ready... to catch him. He latched his arm underneath the other's and hoisted him back. Sure, he may have overexerted the heave forward, sending the Slytherin colliding into his chest, but the brief contact was well worth the ensuing disgust Severus reacted with.

"Real clever, Potter," Severus snarled, dusting his robes off gruffly as if James had somehow imparted him with dirt or something. James grinned innocently.

"Maybe you should hem those robes of yours, Severus. I might not always be around to catch you otherwise," he put sweetly, and the Slytherin, after his bout of unabashed gawking, actually and visibly bristled before quietly storming off.

And during all the days, the worse James ever did was follow Severus around under his Invisibility cloak. Once, when he had been angry enough at the lack of progress, he had finally shadowed the prat into his common room. He had been utterly amazed at how uncave-like the Slytherin house was. It was colder than his own tower abode, for sure, but the dank squalor he imagined the snakes to live in was replaced with high arcing ceilings, comfortable and plushy wingback chairs, tapestries adorning the walls, and a roaring fireplace much like that of Gryffindor's. Of course once James started a the trend he couldn't really abandoned it. He liked to see how Severus behaved in his own corner of the wizarding world. The Slytherin would always pick a spot by the fire when such a place was not already occupied, and it never failed to remind James of his own mates, all vying for the same prized seat in his own common room. There would come a dull ache in his chest at such thoughts, but they were usually (and easily) forgotten the longer he watched the Slytherin in silence.

He never followed Severus up to the boy's room.

He wasn't that brash... not yet at least.

Of course, he had proven himself to be rather idiotic at other moments. For instance, when Christmas was fast approaching, James got the wild idea to get Severus a gift. He had sat atop his bed for hours, wielding his mind to come up with a present suitable enough for the Slytherin, but either his imagination was failing him or he just lacked the focus. He decided that tangible stimuli could prove useful, and so he had snuck out of Hogwarts. He wandered Hogsmeade for a long time. While he himself was instinctually inclined to Zonko's and the Quidditch shop, something told him they weren't quite right for Severus. So he tried the book store, Aunt Abby's Place of Antiquities, and even the Quill shop (which just had to be the most boring place in Hogsmeade), and still James had found nothing. It wasn't until he had resolved himself to leaving empty-handed that he came across a rather surly peddler selling all sorts of oddities. Severus liked strange things well enough, if the boy's potion lab was anything to go by, and after much debate and many questions, James had thought he had found Severus a very perfect gift indeed, the older seller all too happy to be rid of the very pleased Gryffindor. Maybe the nail clippings in the oh-so-plain phial didn't seem all that special, but when help up against the light, even James could see the glittering specks of silver and gold, and he imagined the rare songbird they belonged to to be just as magnificent. He could hardly wait for Christmas.

And then Christmas came. James received letters from his bereft mum and amused father, gifts from them too, ones that would make his other mates and peers jealous no doubt, and he had even been sent letters and small presents from Remus and Peter. Nothing from Sirius, but that was okay. He just hoped the other buys received their gifts from him well enough. Of course, there was one he was rather anxious to hand over personally. When he finally found Severus wandering across the Great Hall very early that morning (none of the other students were out and about just yet), James had swallowed his nerves and shoved the tiny wrapped parcel off unto the confused boy.

"What is this?" Severus asked, and James rolled his eyes.

"What are you? Five? If you just open it you won't have to ask me," he replied back amusedly though his nerves were ricocheting around inside. Severus studied him a moment longer before those long fingers of his slipped under the loose knot of the string and undid the wrappings. James didn't really know if he had picked out something great, at least he hadn't until he saw the Slytherin's face alight with a mixture of astonishment, curiosity, and guardedness. He must have gotten him something pretty wicked after all.

"Amazing Potter," Severus said at last, and James did nothing to hide his pride.

"Yeah?" he breathed out.

"Yes… to think even a self-lauded Marauder could be swindled," Severus jabbed smugly, and James' shoulders stooped. He suddenly felt crestfallen. Swindled? "These are just cat claws… transfigured into bird talons," Severus taunted, shaking the small phial of clippings in front of James' face. Well, on the bright side, James supposed this could only be the low point of his stupidity. Too bad it was in front of Severus.

"If it's useless to you, then give it back," James replied tersely. Inwardly, he was sulking under his wilted pride, but he hid it well enough on the outside. He outstretched his hand to retrieve the phial, but before he could lock his fingers around it, Severus pulled it back and tucked it into his pocket. James blinked at him confusedly. The only thing the Slytherin offered him by means of an explanation was a haughty smirk and an indecipherable comment.

"It's certainly good for a laugh though, isn't it?" he sneered. He turned to leave, and James could only repeat the word 'laugh' within his head. Laugh? Slytherins didn't laugh- especially not ones that were Severus. Then he remembered himself and rushed up to the other before he could disappear down into the dungeons, catching the boy on the twelfth step down. Severus halted calmly while James steadied himself.

"Happy Christmas, Severus," he breathed out. The Slytherin's eyes were back to their usual blank darkness, and James was certain he'd receive nothing in response though he dared to hope otherwise. And then sure enough, the Slytherin side-stepped him and descended on down the stairs. James gave a bitter smile, for how could he have expected it to go any other way? However, as he turned around he thought he heard a distant and thin, "You, too, Potter." At least he liked to believe he had. He certainly grinned like an idiot at the thought of it.

The next day, James could be seen sauntering around Hogwarts quite elated. It wasn't that his happiness was worrisome or anything, but when he made a point to say hullo to every passerby, it was a little disconcerting for the other students. But what did James care? As far as he was concerned, he was making strides with Severus at last.

Then he sat across from Severus during breakfast and was proven wholly wrong.

"I could commend you for your persistence in bothering me, but I really don't want to inflate that head of yours any more than it already is," Severus bit out at him. It was cold... like how Severus used to talk to him. James swallowed his bacon hard.

"You mean we aren't past this yet?" he got out. Severus regarded him minimally.

"You thought something had changed?" Severus asked indifferently. James felt his teeth grind together and his grip around his fork tightened. Severus had been distant with him but never in denial. He leaned across the table, eyeing the Slytherin darkly.

"You know it has," he whispered out harshly through his teeth, voice low so no one else could hear. Severus tilted his head up, fixing James with quite the contemptible look.

"I'm not allowed to say otherwise?" he replied.

"No!" James exclaimed rather loudly, attracting the nearby and suspicious stares of those surrounding the two. "No..." James reiterated quietly this time.

"No?" Severus voiced, and James, feeling his brows furrow upward, could only nod his head once.

_No._

"Stop following me outside, Potter- this is bad enough," he said at long last before he stood and left the withering Gryffindor to the resentment he so was so acutely imbued with just then. James turned his head and watched the Slytherin leave. Then because Severus was utterly incapable of snuffing out his determination, James forced the bitterness down and smiled thinly. As far as he was concerned, he had all the time in the world to prove the Slytherin wrong. At least that's what he told himself.

And eventually, the holiday break neared its close.

James went about the last day, free of Severus, until he downed the rest of his supper with a gulp of pumpkin juice and decided that enough was really quite enough. He sought him out on the third floor. Unsurprisingly, when he entered the room, Severus had compiled many lengthy parchments to his side, his dear Potion's book on top of them, his downcast face glowing with an eerie, silver light. He didn't even look up when he spoke.

"I'd ask how you knew I'd be here, but something tells me that would be a stupid question," he said, and James couldn't respond. He closed the door quietly behind him, pushing it with his back until it shut with a quiet click, and then he just stood there. He stared at the floor for a long while as he couldn't collect his thoughts long enough to proceed further. At first, his little wager with Severus had been a game and a chance to prove that even in this sort of twisted situation, he would be the victor, but as of late, that kind of thinking was being turned upside down.

In the end, the only kind of conclusion James could come to was that he no longer cared who made the damn move, if only someone would just... bloody well step forward. The Slytherin had by now completely disregarded his potion work and was watching James curiously. Good. If he was going to make a spectacle of himself, James better have a captive audience to do it with. So with the Slytherin's attention riveted, he picked his foot up and took one step closer to Severus. He cleared his throat and raised his head until he was level with the other.

And maybe it was something on his face that made the Slytherin straighten just then. And maybe it was something in his eyes that made the other exhale loudly. And maybe it was his own palpable resolution that Severus felt.

And what he said next wasn't a request so much as a demand.

"Severus..." he began, voice deep and heavy with a pressure that was so acute within him just then-

"...Kiss me."

* * *

A/N: By the way… I think I've given James a neck fetish… And a leg fetish… and an overall Severus fetish… The last one's the best kind though, huh?

Also... this story has gotten way more massive than I had ever intended. Guess we'll all decide later if that was a good thing or not! Hope you enjoyed this chap though!


	12. Clarity

I was gonna wait until I got to 100 reviews, but… Haha! Just kidding! I would never do that! I'm just ecstatic that people even read this story! But really, a gracious thank you to all of you for reading! (And also a gift of redundancy. A gracious thank you? I just really wanted to drive the meaning home, I guess! :P)

**Chapter 11: Clarity**

_ …kiss me…_

The words seemed to trail out longer in sound than what should have been possible. It could have been that James was replaying them over and over within his mind, but he swore he could hear them bounding around the room as well, wrapping them both in an eerie sibilance. It could just be the quiet simmering of the cauldron hissing out just to Severus left, but then again… maybe the walls were echoing the words…

He saw Severus close his eyes, for what purpose James could not discern. He did notice how utterly unsettled the other seemed, and rather than dissuade him, it merely incited him further.

"Come now… You shouldn't look so affronted," James started up again quietly. Severus turned his head, as if unwilling to acknowledge him, but this moment, at least for James, felt… pivotal. And he didn't want to be ignored by the other boy. Not any more. "Think of it as an experiment," he offered somewhat jokingly—anything to alleviate the tension in the room—but then Severus whipped his head up.

"An experiment?" he repeated contemptuously, and James finally noticed the very tight grip the Slytherin had on his quill. That meant that the boy was either rather angry—and Merlin wouldn't that just be a shock?—or…quite possibly… just maybe… he was feeling… nervous.

"Yeah… an experiment. You like those well enough, don't you?" James asked as he casually walked over to the Slytherin's work table. Severus watched him intently, and James was not so oblivious that he didn't notice the way the boy tensed further with each step that brought them closer together.

"Do you even know what you're talking about?" Severus asked harshly as James came before the table.

"Even if I did, I'm sure you'd just explain it to me anyway," he smiled. Severus ignored this last comment as he slipped into a tirade.

"An experiment is where you test a hypothesis- to verify a believed truth. There are variables, Potter—ones that are intentionally changed to compare against a standard, and experiments have to be repeated to ensure unvaried results," he didn't so much explain as berate him. "Tell me, what are we experimenting here exactly?" he asked.

"I think you know what end results I'm looking for," James said evenly as he picked up a brass trinket. It reminded him of a very small wood rasp, but judging by the teeth of the tool, it was a scaler.

"No, I want to hear explicitly what truth it is you want to confirm," he said, tone low. James sighed.

"Maybe we're looking for different results here—But I know what I want to know, and I guess I'm just hoping that… maybe you're just a bit curious yourself."

"…about what?" the boy said slowly.

James shrugged his shoulders as he turned the scaler in his hand. "To see if you'll feel it again, too."

"Feel. What. Potter?" he punctuated, and from the corner of his eye, James saw the slight quiver in the boy's hands. He slowly looked up to Severus.

"What I felt," he began quietly, his voice barely above that of a whisper, "… when we…" But he trailed, faltering once again. It was one thing for James to elude to… that particular event, but to out right say it? No. So James swallowed the words down nervously. Severus watched him, and there the two of them stood for what seemed like agonizing hours though could surely not have been more than a minute. James' skin was growing warmer the longer Severus stared at him and said nothing until it was all he could do to not wipe the sweat from his neck and brow.

"As I said, Potter—experiments require repeated trials," Severus said at last, bowing his head down as if studying his work and so that James could no longer see his face properly. But what the Slytherin had just said—Merlin, James could almost laugh from it! If that was Severus' concern—and when it was put to James so weakly—then perhaps this exchange wasn't going to be as daunting as he had anticipated. And because he couldn't quite conceal his relief, he smiled gently.

He laid the trinket down with a muffled thump. "Well… if that's what it takes," he replied, a bit breathlessly as he then glided his fingers atop the surface of the desks until Severus' own hand was right before his own. "So Severus…" he began, voice lowering and deepening, and he took a breath, ready to say those resounding two words again when Severus suddenly spoke up.

"What I don't understand… is why you've been acting… differently the last couple of days," the other admitted, and James supposed it was a fair enough point to make, even though he wished the moment for talking was over with.

And he could lie and say that the intrigue of their recent interactions was enough for him to pursue this further (it wouldn't even be that surprising of a response for one believed to be as wanton as he), but truthfully? Truthfully… what could he say? That he had a sneaking suspicion that some lurking darkness had infested him? That he was perhaps cursed? That what he should really be doing was seeking a way to rectify this cataclysm? Put everything back to how it used to be—like in the perfect days of yore?

But…

…but these occurrences… the times when he and Severus were in the same room, were speaking to one another, or were very close together… he never thought about any of it. Not really. Because he didn't want to.

He wanted what he wanted… when he wanted it.

The oddity of it all was that it was Severus that was the object of this… want.

And if it was any other person- _any_ other person… he wouldn't have analyzed a thing— wouldn't have had to. He didn't with his mates, he didn't with his short-lived crushes, and he never once questioned why Lily was so important to him. Should he have to with Severus? Why? Because their animosity for one another made this all the more inconceivable and illogical? Well, that may be so… but he couldn't possibly waste another moment second guessing this because…

Because…

…Severus had reacted to him as well… had been more than receptive even. And the Slytherin could not be given any time to debate the matter. Not a single second more. Because if he did—if he was given the moment's reprieve to reflect upon all of this… then that'd be it. It would all end— the chance for James to experience what he wanted to so desperately again and the chance for him to give this happenstance a purpose… a reason. It's what Severus would do after all, and his conniving brain had enough within it to twist any sort of feeble protest into a full-blown, full-bodied refutation.

And he make it to where James could not counter—would not be given the chance to.

And now was certainly not the time for him to question the Slytherin. Because really, truly, honestly… it was Severus' own consent and acceptance of these exchanges that were the most baffling. But James didn't want to scare the other. Questioning the boy would bring up the defenses faster than anything else, and Merlin, he did not want that.

So what could he say?

Eventually, he just shrugged his shoulders, hunching over the table slightly.

"Truthfully?" he began quietly. "Well, you know—it's just that all of this has been rather… strange," and he rapt his fingers across the table nervously. "And I guess I thought that if I approached all of this… differently, it wouldn't seem so…" but what was the right word to finish on?

"Bizarre?" came Severus, and James made a noncommittal snort of laughter. Yes Bizarre, but also…

"Intense."

At that, Severus arched one elegant brow, and James could curse him for his seeming composure at a time like this. Did all Slytherins take private lessons on it or something? Was he the only one perspiring here?

"Intense…" Severus repeated, looking downwards, an expression that seemed suddenly uncharacteristic. James nodded though he knew the other was not watching him just then. Miraculously, James had not been asked to leave— had not been forced to either. This was what he perceived to be one of those opportunistic moments. And he would take it.

"So… how about… as part of the changed variables you were going on about—we just… for this moment—for this first trial— we pretend that I'm not me… and you're not you," he offered quietly as Severus continued to stare down at the table before him.

"Pretend?" the other repeated, and James felt that at the moment all Severus was trying to do was delay this impending disaster the Gryffindor seemed so intent on forcing upon them both by hollowly echoing his own words back at him. James would have none of it.

"For this one instance, Severus, pretend… and just kiss me."

"No." And Severus' reply was so unwavering and so unbearably stern that James did freeze in his crawling advance. And he could have turned around, could have swallowed his burning pride down like bile and respected Severus' protest, but when was the Gryffindor anything but unrelenting? And besides, if he had turned to cowardice after so bold a claim then he'd miss what happened next.

The Slytherin's face was unadorned with any expression that could be decipherable to James, but what did it matter? What did it matter when the next two words the Slytherin uttered were so crystalline as to shatter all of James' uncertainties?

"Kiss _me_."

_Bloody fuck…_ James thought as he closed his eyes, resisting the urge to grapple his chest where surely his very ribcage was about to lance through his skin.

Severus' voice had always that strange quality to it—that ability to sound louder than it was or really the ability to be heard when it really shouldn't have been. James had only witnessed that same talent of the Headmaster, who with a mere whisper could command a whole clamorous dining hall. And though Severus was but mere steps away, those two staccato syllables had been hushed out so quietly passed two seemingly unmoving lips… almost as if unwilling to be heard…

…but James had.

He did hear those two words, unstressed and simply… Might he even think beckoningly?

Severus continued to stand there as if he had not just uttered something so tantamount as to upheave all that James knew to be true of the Slytherin.

And he could be mocking him— could be merely throwing James' own words back at him like he had been—but…

...but…

Before Severus could undo what he said, James lunged forward and grabbed the Slytherin by the sides of his face, his fingers burrowing into the boy's hair, locking him in place. His focus grew hazy, and he brushed his right thumb against Severus' bottom lip. He leaned in and then hesitated for just a second more as the Slytherin's eyes widened.

"Ha…" he breathed, smiling softly. "You flinched." Severus made a small _humph_ as James ran his forefinger down the boy's mouth.

"For the love of Morgan… Just stop talking, Potter. For once," he snarled quietly, and James smiled all the more.

"Whatever you say, Severus," and he moved in until his lips finally found those of Severus'.

And it was amazing how quickly he reacted.

His skin tingled with warmth. It started in his chest until it rushed to every arm, leg, finger—his face—everywhere! Sure it probably stemmed from the sweltering heat of the cauldron nearby, but where was the poeticism in that? He much rather believe it was because this act of mutual intimacy ignited a very fire within his veins. He smiled against Severus. Yeah… he liked that idea much better.

Then Severus hands came up to grip the sides of James' wrists, and he made a sound in the back of his throat that made the Gryffindor panic. He wondered then if he was doing this right. The last time was so spontaneous that he never once had any semblance of coherent thought. But now? Everything he had done to get himself to this point had been speculated upon. And sure his instincts were there, rumbling deep within him—coaxing him on from the fringes of his thoughts—telling him with a quiet ferocity to simply claim for himself what he so thoroughly wanted to, but…

…he was much too aware of the other at the moment—of the boy's presence—his solidity—of his very real and physical form under his touch.

And James didn't want to look like an idiot.

He scrambled through his memories, conjuring up images of some of the more… indecent displays of affection he had witness from some of the older years, and tried to mime them.

He moved his mouth, opened it a little, and felt Severus do the same. He breathed in languidly, felt the other exhale, and then he stifled the moan that was grumbling up from within his depths. And then he sensed those undulating forces inside him swirl reason with lust until it was one very compulsive guide—until he accepted it for what it was so that it became his one intention.

He shifted as close as he could while the table still divided them until he felt that pleasant warmth within him flare into a frustration that such an impetuous object dare separate them. He broke away. Severus looked surprised for only a second until he seemed to realize that James' only intent was not to further himself from the other but to press themselves together all the closer. He came round the obstacle fast and upon reaching the other at last, he kissed him again and guided him back with his lips and the slight force of his body until Severus could go no further— until James felt his own hands, one grasping the small of Severus' back, the other wriggling its way to the back of the boy's head, grazing up against the grainy stone walls.

Then everything began to tighten.

His grip on the boy—the fingers within Severus' hair—the space between their ever compressing forms—the air between them—his chest…

—the muscles in his lower belly…

Suddenly Severus leaned away, his lips swollen, and he focused upon James though his eyes seemed clouded over.

"You've got to be kidding me, Potter," he said, his voice deep and somewhat rasping, and his eyes trailed down James' torso and just a bit lower still. It took James an awfully (and awkwardly) long time to sift through his lust and decipher the boy's meaning, and then he smirked realizing just what Severus was referring to. He should probably be embarrassed at how hard he was (and how quickly it had happened), but he felt more than just his own.

"You can lecture me all you want, Severus," he said, shifting slightly and nuzzling the other's cheek with the tip of his nose and lips, "…when your own isn't pressing into my thigh," he finished, sighing out most lasciviously into the other's ear. Severus darkened to a lovely shade of red, and James had to make a mental note to inspire such expressions in the other more often. That Severus could even make such a face! _Bloody fucking wonders of all wonders!_

He moved against the other as they continued to kiss. The need for this to go further was overwhelmingly difficult to withstand, and with each tentative shift he made against Severus, he felt that need become more frenzied. He brushed his tongue along Severus upper lip and then attempted to dart it inside the other's mouth when Severus suddenly turned his head.

"What?" James panted.

"That feels too weird," he said evenly.

"Come on, it's how you're suppose to kiss at a time like this," James said, moving his mouth along the boy's jaw line.

"Because you would know," Severus persisted irritatingly.

"It's how everyone else does it," James quipped, but the stern look on Severus face deflated any further arguing. "Dammit, Severus," and he captured the boy's mouth again. Severus wouldn't be allowed to protest further either.

As they continued to kiss, their lips moving seamlessly against one another's, James couldn't help but feel the gentle pitter-patter of his heart. This act… this here… the intermingling and the closeness of them both was something… auspicious, he felt. Or at least, he wanted to believe it was. The first time had happened because chaos had overruled sensibility, which he internally would admit he was very happy about. But the second time? This time? What could it be but… hopeful?

For how could Severus refuse him ever again?

Not when it was he that had sparked this exchange.

Feeling something he hadn't since the last time he had touched this boy… a sense of utter completion, of rightness, James sighed contentedly, his breath mingling with the warmth of Severus' own. He unwound his fingers that were buried in the boy's hair and ghosted them across his jaw and gently down across his neck. He felt the slight protrusion of his collarbone and ran his middle finger laterally along it until he curved them around the boy's shoulder. He then cascaded his fingers down Severus' arm until he found the Slytherin's hand viciously gripping the hem of James' jumper. And then he took that hand and those long, thin fingers within his own and brought them up to the sides of his face. He moved the boy's finger tips along his cheek and relished at its subtle warmth.

And then Severus' hand needed no guidance. They explored the sides of James' visage until they came to the base of his skull and combed through his hair. And why that excited James as much as it did, he'll never know. But the sensation was simply riveting.

Then James shifted his grip around the boy's hips until his hands crawled under the boy's jumper and undershirt where his fingers climbed higher and higher up the notches of the boy's spine, and he wondered why he liked that feeling so much, too. He ran them along the boy's shifting shoulder blades, along his tautening muscles, and back down along the curve of his back.

And all the while, the languid motion of their lips hiccupped every now and again whenever James would rock too forcibly against the other so that each of them hitched in breath.

…but the pressure was building.

And with the pressure so was the need, and James wanted those pesky barriers, the clothes that separated them, to disappear. And just as he resurfaced his hands to undo the first obstruction, outside the door came a very startling, and very clamorous, crashing noise.

Both of them jolted, breaking away hastily before looking to the door reflexively.

"Shit," James uttered, his frenzied heart reacting to now both Severus and the sudden explosion of sound while the Slytherin then scrambled out from behind him. The boy pulled his wand out to perform a cleaning spell as he quickly tidied up his things. It took James a second longer to react, completely stunned that of all times to be neat, Severus chose now, but then he made for the other and pushed him towards the door where he then cautiously opened it. It made a slight creaking noise as he tentatively peeked out from behind it. No one was there, but they heard another resounding crash down the hall and weren't about to stick around longer. James knew it had to be Peeves up to know good, and that personally, he couldn't care less about one troublesome Poltergeist, but wherever Peeves was mucking about, Filch was sure to follow.

They made a mad dash for it. They bolted down the hall, but before they reached the end of the corridor, Severus suddenly turned back. James watched as the other ran up to his makeshift potion lab to put a locking spell on the door. James rolled his eyes, doubled-back himself, latched onto the boy's arm, and all but dragged him along. Personally, he thought that there was no good way of concealing a potions labs from the professors—if they were going to find it, they'd get in locked door or not. Then again, maybe Severus did it to deter the students that used the abandoned halls for… far less productive activities than the one Severus used it for—productive defined by the Slytherin, of course. Still though… that Severus was protecting it made James smile.

"I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own," Severus chided after they had reached a safe distance from Peeves. James kept vigil for the Argus-eyed caretaker as the two of them bounded down the steps.

"I know… this is just a cheap exploit," he grinned back at him. Severus scoffed, but James smiled all the more because the boy did not make any attempt to take his hand back. He led him all the way down to the entry hall, and he was surprised that they had come across no one. He stopped before the stairs leading down to the dungeons where he then felt Severus' hand leave his own. But as the Slytherin left for his dorm, James reacted and pulled him back. Maybe it was because he didn't like seeing the other walk away just then. Maybe it was because it reminded him of the last time Severus just walked away without a word. When Severus finally turned around, James, guided by another one of those compulsive voices, leaned forward with every intention of imparting the other with a kiss when Severus, to James' slight bitterness, turned his head.

"What are you doing?" he asked quizzically. The genuine confusion on the Slytherin's face actually alleviated the instinctive hurt that James had felt just a second ago.

"Severus, I know we're both a little inexperienced in these matters, but I thought you'd at least know that was a pretty typical and expected gesture when people part ways sometimes," he said amusedly.

"Ridiculous," he contested affectedly, and James suppressed his laugh, opting for a grin instead.

"If you say so," he smiled. Severus almost looked as though he would smile, too, but James knew he wouldn't. The Slytherin hovered there a second more, and James wondered then if he was expecting James to try and kiss him again. Of course, he would very much like to oblige, but before he could decide if that's what the Slytherin was waiting for, the boy spoke.

"What do you think will happen tomorrow?"

And James furrowed his brows. _Tomorrow? Oh… tomorrow. Where everyone returns, he means… Where he supposes everything will return to how it was…_ Merlin… how one little statement like that could fill the Gryffindor with such surging hope. Before Severus could react, James leaned down and kissed him on the temple.

"What are you talking about? I'll torment you relentlessly. It's all I'm good for, right?" he grinned, and Severus snorted after a bout of silence.

"Please tell me you'll at least stop following me around," he asked blandly as he adjusted his robes. James stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders.

"Why not… you're an absolute bore anyway," he said, grinning for good measure. Severus quirked a brow but said nothing more, and then both boys turned away from one another and returned to their respected dorms.

And as James turned his back to Severus, just as Severus had done to him, both of them walking in the opposite direction at the same, steady, slow pace, James was content. Maybe he wasn't turning his back to darkness, and maybe a perfect day wasn't waiting ahead, but he didn't care. Maybe that made him heedless, reckless… self-destructive, but he was content to know that he wasn't an incomplete person.

For so long, he had pretended to be satisfied with everything. Perhaps that festered the darkness, who could say, really? It wasn't as if he was unhappy. He had his mates Sirius, Remus, Lily, and Peter (though he was mostly at odds with them at the moment). He had those that admired him, and that, in turn, drove him to be the best that he could be (or what he thought he could be). His teachers respected him (some more than others). He had Quidditch that, if ever he needed an escape for the day, for an hour, his broom and the sky were always waiting for him.

But what he didn't have— what he couldn't understand— was never having. His mates, those admirers, the broom, the sky— all were there for him at any moment. Any moment that caught his fancy, he could call upon any of them. They were never not going to be there.

Severus was different. He was always wanting— always seeking. James never realized until he had become so spun by Severus just how much he had always paid attention to the other. He was always looking out for Severus— seeking out the boy who was always seeking everything James had. Inwardly, buried beneath his superficial veneer of youth and immaturity, James knew that Severus was the one person he could have complete power over.

Severus, despite how he spat James' name— despite how he threatened him with vicious curses was always wishing, deep down, buried beneath his own superficial veneer of self-praise, that he could have all that James had.

That… was power.

That— that singular, buried knowledge vested in James the greatest sense of worth. Instead of admitting to that knowledge, though, he sought Severus out personally. To taunt him, to ridicule him. He told himself it was because Severus was pathetic. James' hadn't been given such happiness freely. He had to earn them. He had to work hard for his parents' praises. He had to garner friends by giving them candies when they were younger, letting them have rides on all his new brooms, sharing with them the luxuries of his heritage. He had to study hard (or pretend to in some cases) to earn the respect of his teachers. He had to practice on his broom so that he could earn a rightful spot of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Who was Severus to look at James as if he deserved none of it? That it all came too freely for him, and that James didn't appreciate any of it?

So he sought Severus out— to taunt him, to ridicule him, to show him that it was only because Severus was comfortable with the shitty life he had been dealt that his life was just that… shitty.

But deep down, it wasn't why. It was because he knew Severus admired him. And because, no matter what James told himself, he had been given a privileged life where making friends, excelling in academics, earning the respect of his parents and teachers was all so easy. And he really never learned to appreciate any of them. Because he would always have them. They would always be there for his beck and call.

Secretly knowing all that and never allowing himself to admit any of it was what, James was certain now, allowed the darkness to grow within him. He had done it to himself. It was years of guilt and lies and petty self-exaltation that provoked the gloom within.

Now it was unleashing its full, uncontained wrath upon him.

Instead of fighting it, however, James allowed it to sweep over and take him completely until he could no longer distinguish the parts of himself that once were and now are.

That made him complete, at last.

How much deeper could the darkness run now that it was allowed to empower itself within him? And what could run deeper than his gratefulness to Severus for freeing him, not from obscurity, but from a pseudo contentment?

So he turned his back to Severus, walked away with his slow, steady steps knowing that he different and that made any promise of perfect days less brilliant and hunted.

* * *

The following morning, James trudged into the Dining Hall and sat down at his table. The first thing he noted upon walking into the room was that Severus was not there. Not completely unusual; Severus was an early riser (even if James did make a special point of getting up at the ungodly hour as well), but maybe for once… the Slytherin slept in. James had certainly felt like doing so; he couldn't remember the last time he had slept so deeply. After returning several groggy yawns of greetings from his fellow Gryffindors, he wolfed down his breakfast quickly before wiping his mouth and standing to leave. Being forced up so early only to be disappointed by the lack of a certain Slytherin's presence was something James thought justified a good session of annoying the other.

He stood to leave and nonchalantly made to pass beyond the Great Hall when the main doors erupted open and a deluge of students, all red-faced and wrapped in cloaks galore, came flooding in around him. James smiled broadly as he spotted two of his fellow marauders trailing behind the excitable crowd streaming passed him.

"Oy! Remus!" he cried, turning on his heel and making his way through the bustling crowd. Remus smiled broadly as he caught his eye. When they reached one another, they clasped hands real quick, as only proper mature wizards like themselves did, and then James scooped Remus up in an embrace.

"Alright! Alright!" Remus protested, shoving James away form him. That's right. James always did somehow manage to forget how Remus hated the overplays. Oh well. Just who did Remus think he was dealing with here?

"Good ol' Moony! Having my affection spurned so early in the morning really brightens up the rest of the day," he laughed. Remus brushed him off as he walked passed him towards the moving staircase. James sidled up to Peter and clapped him thrice on the back. Peter gave a hesitant smile, which James didn't understand but wasn't too concerned with as he followed behind Moony.

"Please, James… after a long trip, your affectedness really dampers _my_ day," he said tiredly. James audibly gasped behind him.

"Remus, I swear! If it wasn't outlawed, it be to Filch's lair with you!" he warned. Then he almost collided into his wearied mate as Remus stopped dead in his tracks.

"Oh… I'm too tired to object," Remus said, suddenly swinging around and plopping down the stairs dejectedly, but James laughed and caught him, turning him around and shoving him back upstairs.

"Hold it… even Filch need his holiday. After all, he had me to contend with all break," he grinned mischievously. Remus snorted softly.

"I dunno, James, seems to me this castle is still rather in tact. Couldn't have done much then," he said haughtily, and because Remus never sounded so snobbish, James laughed some more. Along the way, they slipped into an effortless conversation about what the two did over their holiday breaks. Remus, surprisingly, traveled abroad with his family, something the Lupins never did for fear of their son's condition, while Peter stayed home and didn't really do much of anything. Peter seemed rather taciturn, but it wasn't unusual for the lad to feel overwhelmed by the energetic personalities of James and Remus (and Sirius)… Well mainly James just then. James was about to tell the others that his own holiday break had been… interesting (he'd of course spare them the details) when as they crossed the floor to the base of the tower steps, he heard his name called.

He was surprised to find that it was still instinctual for him to react to the voice so seamlessly.

He turned around, Remus shaking his head and smiling softly while ushering Peter up the remaining steps, and there she was again.

Lily Evans.

And damn if James didn't feel that familiar tug at the base of his heart.

"Hullo, Potter," she smiled hesitantly as she stepped up to him. He closed his eyes and wielded himself to not react so obviously.

"Hullo, Lily," and he could have addressed her by her last name, but 'Lily' had slipped so reflexively forth from his tongue. She smiled tentatively, and he felt himself mirror her. She then shook her head and smiled more brightly, as if trying to shake something off.

"I know it's days late and all, but I got you something," she then dug through the bag strapped around her shoulder until she pulled out a very small package. "It's isn't anything much, and no doubt you'll only berate me for being '_such a girl,'_ but I wanted to give this to you." She said all this without ever meeting his eyes as she stretched out both hands grasping the package out to him. He went to greet it with his own and felt her smooth skin as he retrieved the gift.

He looked at her for a second more, questioning her silently if this really was alright before she smiled fondly at him. He gently tore the wrapping away to reveal a small glass case, and inside the glass case was a broken toy snitch, the ones modeled after the real things but were only enchanted to hover a second or so in the air after tossing.

"I don't get it," he admitted, turning the case over as if some message would be scripted on the bottom so as to explain instead. Lily laughed that very innocent giggle which only confused James further.

"I figured you wouldn't," and she stepped up to him until she was very, very close. She touched the case and turned it back over within James hands so that their fingers flitted around and against one another, smiling as she did. And from James' taller stance he could see just how long those sun-kissed eyelashes of hers really were. "You threw this at my head in our first year, James," she said. "Remember?" And she looked up at him, those green and vivid eyes very fixed upon him. Then his heart gave a slight tremble. Yes... he did remember this particular snitch.

"Uh, yeah... I remember," he smiled. "I only did it because you called me a talentless knob-head who liked to eat his own bogies."

"But first you called me a dunderhead all because I was muggle-born," Lily quipped. James winced at that. Gods, had he always been such an arse?

"But I wasn't really aiming for you," he added quickly- and it was true enough- and Lily smiled.

"Yeah, I figured that afterwards."

"Why'd you keep it?" he asked, and she looked down at the object in his hands, and it dawned on him that Lily had been holding onto this object for a really long time. She shrugged her tiny shoulders.

"I felt bad for what I said. I was going to try and fix it and give it back to you, but as you can see… I couldn't. And then every time I tried to talk to you again—" Yeah, James knew what she was going to say next.

"—I was a right git," he said for her, and she laughed while nodding her.

"Pretty much… Anyways, Happy Christmas, James," she said. She smiled up at him so warmly that his only response was to look away and swallow.

"I… I didn't get you anything," he admitted.

"That's alright…" she said quietly, and James looked at her again. And before he could comprehend what she was doing, she raised up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to the corners of his briefly. When she pulled back her complexion almost matched the intensity of her hair. "See you around, Potter." And she dashed up the steps behind him.

And James did not turn around.

He did not follow her with eyes.

He stared at the broken, encased snitch within his hands as the very breath rushed out from him in a shaking escape.

And then he gripped the memento all the tighter because it was all too clear to him.

He loved Lily—Oh yes, he loved her…

But…

...but…

Truth was, he had a different memory of this snitch as well. For at the time, when Lily had called him some stupid name, there was a certain small, dark figure off in the periphery. And that particular small, dark figure that clung to shadows and away from others was the very boy that James had swore to hate from day one. And what did that boy in the periphery do that day? Why he had laughed at James. Had laughed at him when Lily, the girl with such intense hair and opinions, had called him that very stupid name.

Even then James very much reacted to the boy.

And so he had thrown the snitch, missing Lily completely… and because James wasn't as malicious as that small, dark figure believed, he had missed the boy, too.

How strange that this little memento would make its way back to him… How strange it was that it was Lily who have given it to him. And as James now gripped the case, his transparent reflection staring back at him, it was all so clear.

It was Severus he wanted.

And fuck, how he wanted him.

* * *

"You know... if this is going to become a nightly routine of yours, Potter, I'm going to have adjust my day," Severus spoke from across his re-purposed classroom as soon as James shut the door behind him. James laughed quietly as he came to sit across from the Slytherin.

"I didn't get a chance to ask you yesterday… What do you think this is?" he voiced softly. James had done his part, had answered the other boy's questions, and now he wanted the same in turn. Severus watched him with what James could only surmise was slight interest and marginal confusion.

"You're asking that now?" he scoffed.

"Come on," he said, smiling thinly and standing up. "It's only fair. And I am asking seriously."

"What else could this be, Potter—" he smirked dangerously as James waited on tenterhooks for the answer, "—but madness?"

And the answer resounded inside James until he no longer cared what the answer was or what his question had even been to begin with.

"Whatever—that's good enough for me," he replied short of breath, and he closed the distance between them so that he could finish where he had left off the night prior. He didn't even care if Filch came upon them, he would have Severus.

_Fuck, how he wanted him._

* * *

A/N: Okay so it's not really a note so much as a rant, but I would just like to say... I hope people continue to write fanfics and draw their fanart or whatever it is to show some Potter-verse love! I'm only saying this, of course, because of the recent cinematic conclusion of HP. It was quite something to go watch it because... it is, once again, the end of all things (for the story at least). ^^;; Most everyone that has read HP has been with it for over a decade, and I would just like to add that... well... that's pretty incredible. I also want to thank JK Rowling for writing it because it has certainly been a wondrous journey for myself reading them all. Also, also... thank you to everyone for writing their own takes on it because it's also infinitely fun to partake in others' love for it as well.

Really, truly... I do love it all!


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